Trengsel
by darthxerik
Summary: Loki doesn't remember killing Odin. His worst fears are realized when he discovers that he is being possessed by an evil spirit. He seeks the assistance of an old apprentice, the Enchantress, knowing that revealing himself to Thor would be suicide. Sequel to Thor: The Dark World.
1. Chapter 1

_Credit goes to Alydia Rackham for all the endless inspiration and support. I wouldn't be writing this if she hadn't encouraged me to do so! Please go check out her amazing Loki/Jane fanfictions if you haven't already. :)_

_This story is dedicated to Maddie, my cousin. Thank you for listening all those hours. Your input has been invaluable!_

_This is my first time undertaking a full-length fanfiction. I will need to hear from you, my dear readers, to help me keep this story going! I cannot wait to hear from you. I hope you enjoy the ride._

* * *

TRENGSEL

by Hannah Sophia

(DarthxErik)

"I don't think anyone,

until their soul leaves their body,

is past the point of no return."

- Tom Hiddleston

* * *

"I didn't do it for him."

The words just escaped Loki's graying lips. His body lay calm and motionless.

Thor trembled, pain shooting up his arms as he struggled to support his brother's head.

The icy hand that lingered around the outside of Thor's arm fell soundlessly into Loki's lap.

Thor stopped breathing as his brother's pale features turned dark gray... ash spreading like poison through his veins.

Loki's stained complexion only seemed to intensify the bright hue of his eyes: They shone brilliantly and unmistakably _green_...

Their earnest, mistful gaze shot straight up into Thor's heart. Their eyes locked onto each others' until the very last possible moment.

Then, with conviction, those emerald eyes shut themselves forever.

And Thor felt Loki's body let go.

His world stopped.

A violent tremor coursed through his entire body.

"NOO!" he bellowed. His face twisted painfully, and he slumped forward, choking on tears.

Thunder rumbled high above, the storm of Thor's heart taking on physical form.

Soon an enormous hurricane of ash and dust filled the sky, sweeping across the wasteland of Svartalfheim.

Approaching.

Thor did not move at all until he felt Jane's tender hand rest on his shoulder.

Even then, he felt no strength in him to stand.

She couldn't understand, Thor thought.

Thor's brother... his little brother, whom he had known for a thousand years... was gone.

* * *

_I didn't do it for him._

Loki's spirit, as in a dream, was all bound up.

_I didn't do it for him._

The words pulsed through Loki's being...

Then his mind gasped.

He felt warm, all over...

Light.

Loki's mind frowned.

Light_headed_.

He felt dizzy, disoriented... feeling like he'd been spun in a million directions, and was just starting to regain balance, and awareness. He couldn't tell which way was up... or down... every sense distorted.

His eyes were closed, but opening them would hardly make a difference. He sensed nothing but pitch black surrounding him.

He breathed in... deeply.

The sensation filled him.

A strange sense of peace, overwhelming him. He would've been perfectly content if he could remain in this sleep-like state forever...

But then he felt something.

Something tangible.

Something, he realized, that he was holding in his right hand. His fingers curled gently around it.

His mind couldn't quite place it. It was hard like metal... cylinder-shaped... and smooth.

Like a pole, or a spear...

Familiar in his hand.

It was the only thing that felt real in the midst of this present fog.

His being gasped, his fingers tightening around the spear... a sudden panic filling his heart with dread.

He knew suddenly that if he allowed himself to slip... if he let go of the spear... he would be lost forever...

But the abyss around him began to change. Pitch black brightened into a maroon shade.

His eyes opened, staring wide, but everything remained veiled in shadow.

But his feet came to rest on solid ground. It felt hard, like stone beneath his riding boots.

Then he became aware of the rest of his body. He commanded the fingers of his left hand to flex, and they torpidly obeyed. He felt his armor in place, leather coattails dangling at his ankles.

Maroon vision turned red. Then a glowing, golden-brown. He saw everything in large, filtered shapes. The growing light made him squint.

He directed his focus somewhere to his right... hoping that if he squinted long enough, he could make out the object in his right hand.

The weapon began materializing, enough to where he could make out its form. The rest of his vision remained out of focus.

It was, indeed, Odin's spear... Gungnir.

Loki studied it up and down, frowning.

Narrowing his eyes, he noticed that something dark, like rust, covered its tip. Which he had never seen on it before.

Loki drew in a breath through his nostrils... the scent forced him to shut his eyes.

Asgard.

He was in Asgard.

He knew because he could smell the salt of the sea... he could almost hear the gulls crying... and waves crashing from afar. The aroma brought many memories.

He sighed. The smell always seemed most powerful after having been off on a year-long quest, finally returning home...

When he opened his eyes again, his surroundings were no longer veiled in fog.

He stood in the great hall of Asgard. In front of him, he could make out a row of columns, inlaid with weaving, snakelike patterns. Symbols he had memorized since childhood.

As his sight moved ahead, where the entrance to the hall flooded with daylight, Loki realized that a good majority of the columns were not in their rightful place.

They lay in ruins.

He could still hear the way his prison ceiling crumbled. How Asgard's foundations quaked, presumably at the very moment the Dark Elves flew one of their ugly ships into the great hall. That was the day he had lost his mother. Just hours ago.

Loki felt his heart catch in his throat, fresh pain filling him...

But it occurred to Loki that the pain wasn't the crippling... not like the pain he had experienced on Svartalfheim. A gaping, bleeding hole through his chest that paralyzed him with agony...

Loki no longer felt that pain.

If he really was dead, he reasoned... he might be experiencing a vision of some kind. That would surely explain what he was seeing. While passing through death, people were known to see all sorts of impossible things.

Perhaps he was being granted one last, momentary glimpse into the life he had.

Loki carefully surveyed the throne room now that his vision was nearly clear. The last time he had been in the great hall was when he was brought before Odin. That was also the last time he had seen his mother... that is, not through an illusion.

Past the steps below him, Loki stared upon the spot where he had stood in chains, nearly a year ago. Illustrious triangles were carved into the floor, their forms weaving together into the symbol of the Three-in-One. It was widely regarded as the royal seal of Odin. Yet it also held some kind of ancient mystery... Having to do with the origins of the universe.

Yet another symbol Loki had memorized from youth.

The throne, now laying in ruin, was situated just behind Loki. He turned over his left shoulder, still holding Gungnir in his right hand.

As he rotated, his left boot bumped something on the floor, behind him.

Loki halted, looking down.

There lay a man on his side, facing away from Loki. He wore the best quality of Asgardian armor, and on the shoulders he wore broad, golden plates. Round discs adorned his collar, from which hung a crimson cape, obscuring the rest of his form.

Loki's limbs froze as he noted the man's silvery hair, falling past his shoulders in braided waves. His eyes widened.

It was Odin.

Loki withdrew half a step, instinctively.

CLANG!

Odin's spear met the ground, the sound of the impact ringing through the stone hall. But Loki didn't glance down.

Loki's eyebrows twitched together.

This sight felt familiar.

_Is this the Odinsleep?_

Loki stood, absolutely alone in the throne room, above Asgard's king... who lay at his feet... Asgard's king who didn't even appear to be breathing.

Reality slapped Loki in the face.

He got to his knees, falling next to Odin, hands twitching, uncertain of what to do, but certain that he had to do something.

Overcoming his hesitation, Loki reached out. He took a hold of Odin's shoulders.

He grimaced as he pulled, turning him over to face the ceiling.

The All-Father's face was one he recognized immediately. It filled his earliest memories.

A golden eyepatch covered the All-Father's blind eye. His soft, white beard contrasted with the hard lines in his forehead, giving him an ever-present look of sternness. Yet, Loki recalled catching glimpses of genuine affection in that old, blue eye of his... hardly ever directed at him.

Loki watched Odin's mouth, looking for signs of breath. But every muscle in Odin's face stayed absolutely still.

Loki licked his lips, eyebrows drawing upward.

"Odin," he whispered carefully.

He waited. The silence dragged on.

He reached out with his right hand.

It shrunk back, hesitating several times before it finally landed upon Odin's weathered hand. He tried again:

"Father."

Odin's skin felt warm underneath Loki's palm. But then again, Loki's hands would always be considerably colder, by comparison.

Loki glanced at Odin's chest. It didn't rise, or fall, as it should.

Gripping Odin's hand tightly, he shook it.

"Wake up," Loki urged, "Wake up, Father..."

It drew no response.

Loki tore away, kneeling backward, on his heels. His palms trembled, filling with sweat.

He glanced off, to one side... eyes watering, unseeing.

_This is a deep sleep, indeed._

Loki's pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, to clear the fog. When he pulled his hand away, he saw blood.

Blood.

It ran down, along his fingertips.

He stared blankly at the disturbing sight.

Before he could think too much on it, he wiped his hand briskly on the side of his pants.

Quickly adjusting his kneeling position, he leaned forward and began to inspect his father's body closely, looking for a wound...

There it was. Like the blood shining in his hand, a red liquid coat on Odin's breastplate.

Then he saw a deep hole at the center of Odin's chest. Fresh blood still oozed from it.

Loki's vision blackened in and out.

A thousand scenarios filled his mind.

This could be a vision, he thought. Before entering Valhalla's gates, people saw things... Yet he knew whatever test this was, it was still vital to pass through it.

But he had no time for speculation. He had to work fast, if he wanted to save Odin.

Loki thrust both hands forward, palms facing down. They hovered just above Odin's chest. He waved them horizontally, in slow circles, assessing what wasn't immediately visible.

He shut his eyes. Focusing deeply, he tried sensing Odin's lifeforce. There was a good possibility that Odin's tendrils of magic were already at work, healing his body from the inside out.

It was like knocking on a dozen bolted doors... and Loki alone held the key. He navigated his mind through each unseen dimension, mind searching for traces of magic.

Seconds passed... Loki felt the time crawl.

His heart began to sink. No golden strings, no tendrils of magic appeared in his mind's eye.

Odin's life force was undetectable, or vanished.

Loki sighed harshly, wiping sweat and blood on his pants again.

His mind raced. If Odin's tendrils were no longer present... it would be pointless for him to use his own magic strings to tie him up. Even if he could conjure up a healing stone, it wouldn't help his father in the state that he was in.

At this point, most healers would've declared their king dead.

But Loki knew he hadn't tried one thing yet.

He placed his right palm on Odin's chest; his left on his father's forehead. Leaning all of his weight into his arms, Loki pressed with his magic.

A flaring green light emanated from Loki's palms, blasting life-force directly into Odin's body.

Loki pumped his own magic into Odin's veins. He had already saved several Aesir in the past using this powerful healing method. But it always demanded a heavy price. It had the dangers of draining Loki of all his magic, to the point of death, if he stayed connected for too long.

But if Loki could hang on... just long enough... Odin's magic might be able kick in, and he wouldn't have to risk death. And Loki had nothing to lose if he was already dead.

His eyes screwed shut and his head lowered, Loki's body bent over Odin's. Green light continued to blaze. He grunted, exhausted, as he continued to drain his power...

"Gah—!" he gasped, breaking from the spell with a jolting force.

His heart pound violently, and his hands were numb.

Odin's body sizzled with energy, but his eye still remained shut.

And Loki was spent. His eyes stung sharply, on the verge of tears. He, on the verge of collapse. His hands curled in his lap, surrendering open. He stared at the ceiling, lost, forcing himself to breathe.

But he was ready to try again.

With a quick inhalation, Loki readied himself. This time he placed both his hands on Odin's heart.

Green light blinded him. He ducked his head, pushing as hard as he could, pulsing as much magic as he could conjure. It shot through his arms like bolts of lightning, straight into Odin's chest. Green lifeforce left Loki in waves, each one depleting his strength faster than before.

Loki's lowered head shook back and forth... a sob breaking past his throat.

"Please— you _must_ wake up!"

But Loki's hands burned too hot, and the magic thrummed too loud in his head.

His spell burst with a loud crack, ending itself.

The force of the blast threw Loki off his knees.

He landed on the floor, knocked nearly unconscious... arms sprawled to one side.

His eyelashes fluttered open. Broken pillars spun above him, coming in and out of focus.

_I could have done it, Father... I could have done it...  
_

Loki glanced sideways. Odin's spear lay directly across from him... its golden surface polished brilliantly, all the way up to the blade. But at its tip, where Loki had seen rust... he now saw clearly as a fresh coat of blood.

His stomach lurched.

Regaining an ounce of strength, he sat up to a kneeling position, and reached for the spear.

He swallowed, holding Gungnir with both hands close to his face.

The blood on his left hand had matched the blood on Odin's breastplate. And now there was blood on the spear, the one in his hand...

Various explanations slammed into Loki's mind. But only one of them grew and grew until it consumed his mind with certainty and dread.

Loki shook his head once, mouthing a word of denial.

But how could he have done it... if he couldn't remember doing it?

Words he did not wish to conjure up, echoed through his mind:

_All I ever wanted was you and Odin, dead at my feet!_

"No," he uttered, as a single tear escaped his eye, rolling down his cheek.

That next instant, Loki heard voices echoing.

Footsteps.

Turning up sharply, he glared in the direction of the sound's source. His senses sharpened, heart pounding wildly.

His left hand pushed off the ground. His right arm trembled, taking hold of the spear for support. He could hardly stand, much less run.

Several men approached from beyond the pillars, behind. He had less than ten seconds.

Mind racing, he knew what this scene looked like.

Asgard's traitor, broken out of prison... who by all accounts should've been dead, in saving Thor on Svartalfheim... now stood over the kin'gs body, red-handed with Odin's blood, holding the lethal weapon.

The weapon that his hand held, before he had even awakened.

Why couldn't he remember?

If only he could make it all disappear...

Swallowing hard, Loki forced himself to take even breaths.

He could hear the guards twelve paces away. Loki knew he had made his presence known. They were surely hoping to speak to Odin.

Turning to his bloodied hands, he knew whose hands Gunghir belonged to. And they were not his hands.

He knew what to do.

His mind flipped a switch, and soon a green flash ran from his fingertips up his arm, transforming Loki's hand to that of Odin's. The spell spread through the rest of Loki's body, and in a matter of seconds, Loki appeared like Odin.

Then, with the sharp twist of his left hand, the real Odin disappeared from the floor.

* * *

_To be continued!_  
_Please review, and subscribe! I can't _wait_ to hear what you think. :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you all for being so patient! I plan on updating quicker in the future... The third chapter is already on its way! Thank you for all your reviews and shares, I enjoyed every single one of them... they really encourage me to continue._

_Without further ado... chapter two!_

* * *

CHAPTER TWO

VVV

"I know a bank where the wild thyme blows,

Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows,

Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine,

With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine"

- William Shakespeare, _A Midsummer Night's Dream_

* * *

Three Einherjar halted as they reached the base of the steps that led up to Asgard's desolated throne. They hit their right fists against their breastplates, saluting the king, bowing their heads.

Odin was turned away at an angle. He spun forward, facing them, his body tipping unsteadily to one side as he did. He gripped his spear, planted into the floor, regaining his balance. He widened his stance and lifted his chin.

The Einherjar in center was distinctly older: his beard was a silvery-brown and he wore no helmet. He had a silver left arm, the Jotunheim War having claimed it. He was General Tyr, a cousin of Odin.

"My King, the gatekeeper has finally given us some news."

Odin's mouth parted, as if ready to speak. But he just inhaled, waiting in silence.

The general stepped forward, speaking again.

"He managed to catch a momentary glimpse through the cloaking spell... A spell, that he suspects, was cast by Loki..."

Odin's eye widened, darting from one guard to the other. He took an imperceptible step back, fingers curling tight around Gungnir.

"But it was only temporary. Still, Heimdall was at least capable of locating Thor's whereabouts at the time. He was last seen on the Dark World, before the cloaking spell hid him again from Heimdall's sight."

Odin's shoulders dropped, his head lowering steadily.

"Thor," he breathed.

"Yes," Tyr affirmed, "And with him, the mortal, Jane."

Odin stared onto the ground, unseeing and silent.

Then he eased his chin forward. Jaw slackening.

He inhaled sharply. His shoulders shifted backward, in place, and his left hand clenched tight into a fist.

His head snapped up, eye narrowing into a tiny slit that bore onto the general, unblinking. His frame solidified with resolve.

"When did Heimdall speak?" Odin demanded icily.

"Under an hour ago," Tyr replied, "We waited for more, but he insisted he could not see after the cloaking spell resumed."

Odin's hand slid down on Gungnir, gaze flickering away from Tyr. "They are no longer on Svartalfheim?"

The general shook his head. "No, my Lord. Heimdall saw them entering a cave on the Dark World, fleeing a storm. There must have been a battle with Malekith beforehand, for Heimdall could sense that the mortal was free of the Aether, and that Thor was wounded... Loki was not seen with them... And when they wandered deep into the cave, Heimdall saw them vanish... Perhaps by a portal caused by the Convergence. And that is as much as he... chose to report."

Odin frowned. "Does he know where they went?"

"Unfortunately, no," Tyr paused in thought, "Although he said it is likely they crossed over into one of the nine realms: Midgard, Vanaheim, Nornheim..."

"Asgard," Odin added.

"Possibly... Though they have not yet made themselves known to us."

Odin's eye wandered, distant. He nodded slightly. Perhaps to himself.

Another Einherjar spoke up.

"My Lord... Heimdall suspects that, as the convergence reaches its peak, Malekith may reappear to unleash the aether upon the nine realms. But until he reveals himself, there is little we can do to anticipate him, either."

Odin's lips thinned into a straight line, his jaw muscles flexing.

Silence reigned, until Tyr chose to speak again.

"We are not in any position to divide Asgard's attention into two places. My King, I suggest that we focus on maintaining Asgard's defenses, should the Dark Elves return to attack."

The Einherjar that had not yet spoken lifted his head.

"Does our Lord wish to continue searching for Thor, the mortal, and the prisoner?"

Odin's frown deepened, his eye momentary flashing with intensity.

He inhaled. Then his left arm lifted, extending Gungnir. Its base landed on the floor with a resounding thud.

He made a nod, exhaling evenly, "Go."

The Einherjar straightened.

Odin pointed at one of them. "Ensure that the palace shield is restored."

"Yes sir," the guard replied, tipping his head.

Odin pointed to the other guard at Tyr's right. "I need men watching the skies. Put men near the outer posts to defend the city gates, and have the rest ready themselves for Bifrost-travel, but wait for my word. There will be no traveling by Bifrost until I command it. Understood?"

"Certainly, my Lord," the guard responded.

Odin's eye narrowed again, turning back to Tyr.

"Now..." Odin rumbled, "How long do we have before the convergence reaches its peak?"

Tyr canted his head. "Heimdall surmised it would only be a matter of hours. A day at most."

"I see," Odin responded.

His head turned to one side, right shoulder twitching upwards before lowering.

He cleared his throat before speaking in a low rumble. "Order Heimdall to focus all his attention on the elves and the fugitives... I do not wish to be disturbed, unless you bring me news of them... or of Thor."

Tyr bowed his head. "It will be done."

The Einherjar all bowed. Then they marched out in single file, their armor clanking heavily, the sound growing distant in Odin's ears.

He waited until there was absolute silence.

Then he releasing a long, labored breath, pressing his eyes shut.

His right arm relaxed, allowing Gungnir to swing gently at his side. His left hand remained closed in a tight fist.

But a sudden chill shot through his spine, the tremor forcing his shoulders to hitch up.

With his feet plastered on the ground, Loki located the chill... It was piercing, like a winter breeze stinging the skin of his neck that was hardly exposed beneath the high nape of his tunic.

There was no wind in the hall... but the air around Loki shifted strangely, his sixth sense telling him that he was not completely alone... that he was being watched.

He suddenly became paralyzed. He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes.

Instead, he screwed them tighter.

And then, he heard it...

...A whisper, touching his ear... making the hairs on his neck stand on end.

Then a sustained, low-pitched snarl...

Like a looming beast, exhaling directly into his right ear.

His right shoulder flinched up. He could _feel_ the cool breeze from before, twisting into burning hot vapor... a wet mist hitting the right side of his neck.

Loki gasped sharply, his eyes snapping open.

He spun round breathlessly, but the air around him was empty.

Loki stood completely alone. His ragged breaths were the only sound that bounced off the endless pillars... echoing throughout the great hall, returning to him like the sound of a thousand breathless soldiers... until every single gasp dissipated into silence, absorbed by the enormous space of the ancient hall beyond.

* * *

Jane's microwave beeped from the other side of the flat, breaking her concentration.

She leaned over the circular dining room table, holding her bulky anomaly-detector in both hands, staring patiently at the screen, waiting for the image to change, light up... do anything. But it remained unresponsive.

She set the device down on the table, taking a fistful of her hair and releasing an exasperated sigh.

She had just finished taping Selvig's land-spikes together, using simple Duct Tape. Wasn't fancy like the black tape she might've used if she had time to run to the store... but it did the trick. Now she was only trying to get them to synch up with her anomaly device. She had just spent the last two hours reprograming it. She still couldn't get a signal. She tried everything, knowing she should be able to get them to work.

There was actually no way of knowing if they would really work, not until they could test them on-site. But in theory... Erik's land spikes would take advantage of certain "hot-spots"... wormhole-like connections in the air brought about by the convergence... and redirecting them toward the areas surrounding the spikes. A crazy plan, but Jane had double-checked all her equations, and it was entirely possible. If... her machinery would work the way it was supposed to.

Jane had built and re-purposed plenty of scientific equipment in the past. But saving the universe from an army of evil elves had never been a part of her experience.

_"No pressure"... as Darcy would say._

All things considered, she wasn't doing too shabby at two in the morning... considering she had just returned from the other side of the universe after experiencing the horror of having a dark substance living inside of her. At least she was thinking clearly again.

She turned to her left, reading the numbers on one of Selvig's devices. The time on the countdown was T-minus 6 hours and thirty-three minutes.

While Thor and her had been gone, Erik had worked hard to calculate exactly when the convergence would reach its peak. She had to have their equipment ready before then. And even if she got it all done, she wasn't too sure that three hours of sleep would really make a difference, if she could sleep at all. The events of the last day were still swimming in her head. She might as well just plan on pulling an all-nighter, a practice she was all too familiar with... all those years of sleepless nights, on the road to getting her PhD.

She rested her chin on her hand, glaring at the anomaly-detector that still lay unresponsive.

She was tempted to slam it against the table... which actually did the trick, sometimes. But she didn't want to risk waking anybody up.

Darcy's intern was sleeping on one of the sofas near the fireplace. Erik also fell asleep, just an hour or two ago on the other couch, on the other side of the flat. Jane had allowed Darcy to sleep in her own bed, reassuring her that she would also get some sleep as soon as she was finished.

The microwave beeped at her again. She wanted to ignore it, like she'd had done for the past half-hour. But then the thought of a short break from her technical trouble actually sounded really appealing.

Jane stood to her feet that carried her across the tile floor, around the kitchen island, towards the microwave. She opened it, and reached for the porcelain mug inside, confirming that it was now room-temperature.

She sighed, shut the microwave door and punched in another minute and thirty-five seconds... Pressed "start." She decided to wait standing, so she wouldn't forget about it this time. This was probably the third time she was reheating the same cup of tea.

Jane leaned her back against the counter, crossing her arms and facing out toward the rest of the flat. She blinked away the drowsiness that crept over her eyelids and glanced over to her right... past the kitchen, through the small, square window that revealed the sunroom outside.

Jane had seen Thor wander out towards the patio while she was working. He stood there on the balcony's edge, without moving for at least an hour... gazing out towards the city at night, his cape the only thing in motion, flapping in the gentle breeze.

She didn't mean to block him out of her mind while she typed away at her computer desk, but her work demanded all her attention. She hadn't noticed when he had moved into the adjoining sunroom, but when she looked up from her desk and saw him sitting in her wicker bench, she hoped it meant he was trying to get some sleep.

She doubted he actually did. Presently, he sat on the edge of the bench, leaning forward, very much awake.

If she couldn't sleep herself, she couldn't blame him. Not after what happened on Svartalfheim.

Beep. Beep. Beeeep!

Jane reached for the microwave door, unlatching it and removing her mug full of hot, green tea. Cupping it in both her hands, she tipped the cup towards her lips, steam filling her nostrils.

She sipped, warm liquid soothing her throat... the taste reminding her of her parents, when they were all still together...

She took another sip, glancing at the sunroom again. Her eyebrows drew close together, her fingertips tapping against her mug, the silence of the apartment suddenly making her uneasy.

Her bright red, rubber boots made tiny squeaks as she made her way to the doorway that opened up to her patio. She unlatched it and stepped outside.

She breathed in the cool night air, the sound of the city traffic filling her ears. London never slept. It glowed bright at night, hiding most of the stars from sight.

Jane heard the crunching of leaves under her red, rubber boots as she neared the rows of flowerpots filling her balcony ahead. They could definitely use more watering. The vines covering the brick walls and the roof were a bit dry, too.

Past the flower vases, on the other side of a telescope that stood, unused... sat Thor on the wicker bench. His body faced her, his size overwhelming the humble sitting area. His arms covered in armor gleamed silver in the moonlight, and he sat on his red cape, leaning forward. His elbows rested on his knees, his hands cupping themselves in a fist in front of him.

Two streaks of dried blood marred his forehead. Jane realized he hadn't washed them off after arriving from Svartalfheim.

He drew in a breath, straightening. His bright, blue eyes lifted, seeing her.

"Jane," he smiled kindly.

"Hi," Jane replied.

"Are you having success?"

"Well..." Jane sighed, stepping toward him, "I decided to take a break. I probably should've taken one earlier."

Thor's eyes followed her as she stepped toward the telescope that stood between them. She stopped there, reaching out and touching it with her hand, surprised when she pulled away her fingers and saw them covered in dust.

"Back in New Mexico... I could study the sky for hours. Far away from the city lights, I had a really clear view of the stars, even without a telescope."

Jane rubbed the dust between her fingers, smiling sadly.

"Unfortunately, it was harder to see the stars when I moved to London. So, after a while... I guess I gave up trying."

Thor shifted, resting his forearms on his knees. Jane wiped her dusty fingers on the sides of her pants, holding her cup again with both hands. She almost brought the cup to her lips, but then she stopped.

"Wait... I don't think I ever offered you anything to drink! Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. Did you— Would you like me to make you a cup of tea?"

Thor's mouth parted an inch... but he shook his head, smiling politely. "No, I am fine... thank you, Jane."

She frowned. "Are you sure? Not even a glass of water?"

Thor canted his head to the right, and nodded. "Water would be welcomed."

"Great! I'll go get it..."

Jane hurried back to the kitchen, reaching for a cup in the cupboard above the stove. She chose a short cup made out of glass and went to the fridge, filling it up with cold water.

She now carried two cups full of liquid, careful not to spill either of them as she used her elbow to open the door to the patio. She lifted her eyes and saw Thor, now standing... his cape like a giant red curtain hiding his form, which faced the left side of the balcony overrun with flowerpots.

She could hear leaves rustling as he held his hands out in front of him. He was playing with her plants... or re-arranging them.

Which was totally OK with her. It was just totally unexpected.

She got closer, peeking around his right shoulder. His head remained forward and he _was_ playing with a vine leaf, absolutely focused.

She cleared her throat feebly, hoping Thor might give a sign that he was aware of her presence.

But he didn't. He just kept playing with her vines...

"Hey, um," she tried, clearing her throat again, "I got you your water..."

He nodded, without turning or speaking.

"Ok... I'll just, uh..." Jane trailed off, glancing around. Crossing over to the sunroom, she set the glass of water down on the coffee table. She took another small gulp of her tea, and set it down next to the glass.

Returning to the patio, she approached him from the other side. "So... what're you doing?"

Thor's left hand hung loosely at his side, close to Jane. His other hand ran along the wall, swishing vine branches.

"I admire your garden," he said plainly.

Jane suppressed a laugh. "Well... I'm sure you're used to better. The gardens on Asgard that I saw totally blow mine out of the water..."

Thor finally turned his head... he showed her a smile.

But the smile didn't reach his eyes.

Jane decided to step just a bit closer, just to see what he was really up to.

Between his fingers he held a vine branch, and before Jane could stop him, he yanked. The branch snapped, and out he pulled a leafy bundle in his hand...

Peeking past his shoulder, Jane saw a small cluster of flowers in his palm. They were a beautiful cream color... long and elegant in shape, with delicate, swirling stamens. Near each leafy base, there grew little buds, their bright pink hue contrasting beautifully with the yellow-white petals.

Thor opened his palm further, so that Jane could see.

"We have these flowers on Asgard," Thor said, voice quieting. "My mother... she grew these in her garden, outside her window. And she often taught us how each flower has an assigned meaning, like a secret language."

"Hmm... We have something like that, too... I read a book about it once. I thought it was just an English, Victorian trend..."

Jane's eyes glanced up at the vines above her head, sighing melodically. "I planted these vines without knowing that they would flower... it was a surprise when they bloomed last year. That was when Erik came to stay, after New York... and he told me that they were a northern flower, native in the place where he grew up... They're called 'honeysuckles.'"

"'Honeysuckle'..." Thor mused, "On Asgard we call them differently. We call them 'woodbine.'"

He tilted his head toward Jane... a genuine smile spreading across his features.

"...but I would venture to say that your people came up with the prettier name."

"You think...?" Jane chuckled, "Well... I think 'woodbine' sounds far more interesting. Makes me think of old, medieval castles... It's very poetic... something Shakespeare might've used."

"Doth... Mother know you weareth her drapes."

Thor spoke it in a tone of absolute seriousness.

"What...?" Jane laughed.

"The man of iron said it," Thor clarified, "Though I failed to comprehend why he would compare my affairs with the works of a playwright from centuries past—"

"Wait," Jane gawked, "You know about Shakespeare?"

"He is one of the great Midgardian authors... Is he not?"

"Well, yes!... But how do _you_ know about him?"

"His work can be found in our archives, I know not how it was obtained... But my mother ever insisted that we acquaint ourselves with the best literature the nine realms has to offer."

Thor's golden brow drew up, knotting. Fixing his gaze on the flowers in his hand, his shoulders sank as he heaved a heavy sigh.

"I did not dedicate myself to the practice of reading as much as others I knew did. Perhaps that is why I did not understand his reference."

Jane smirked. She looked down at the ground, kicking her foot forward, putting her hands into her pockets. "Well... I think that's just crazy."

Thor looked at her.

"Good crazy... or bad crazy...?"

Jane shook her head with a smile. "_Good_ crazy. Like the fact that both our worlds know about the same kinds of flowers!... and both have access to Shakespeare!" She swallowed, pausing in thought, shrugging. "I guess what I'm realizing is that... I don't really know much about Asgard. And I don't mean, like, the science of it all, which I don't expect to understand right away. I mean more of the _life_ stuff. What it was like to grow up there... for you. I've tried to imagine... to comprehend the length of your lives, and how it must feel to have all that knowledge... you probably remember so much... I don't know what I would do with all of that."

Jane could see from the corner of her eye how Thor's eyes beheld her tenderly, his expression warm, even in silence.

He dipped his head, focusing on the woodbine in his hand again, pressing his lips together. Then his lips parted, hesitating before he spoke.

"A long, long time ago on Asgard, there ruled a mighty king, who threw a mighty feast to honor his first-born son. There had never been a grander feast in all his reign, nor ever since."

Jane's shifted her weight, listening intently. Thor's eyes watched the stars as he continued.

"Courtiers arrived from all across the realm to celebrate the crown prince's most recent victory. He was yet a youth approaching manhood... just one year away from his coming-of-age. He had returned home after completing a rigorous period of testing... far ahead of his time, and more capably than was usual for others his age. You see, on Asgard, there is a custom... that every man or woman aspiring to become a great warrior should complete a certain series of trials... an ultimate testing of his ability and strength. It is called _Trengsel_. This period of testing would span a full year... leading the prince across eight of the nine realms in search of the long-lost sword of Surtur... a fire demon long defeated by his ancestors. The prince knew upon setting out that none had ever succeeded in recovering the sword. But the point of the journey did not lie in finding it, but in the art of searching.

"Sure enough... the prince returned home without it. But when he told his father of what he did accomplish, the king was astonished. His closest companions who had journeyed with him attested to the tales... and it was round the torch-lit longtables of the feasting hall that the prince recounted his glorious feats in elaborate detail, arousing shock and amazement from all who listened. They gorged themselves on roasted boar... succulent pomegranates, cheeses and grapes... and the finest ale in all the kingdom.

"When the guests had had their fill, the king rose from his seat, standing at the head of the royal table. To his left sat the queen, poised and beaming with pride for their son... who sat at the king's right. The prince stood to his feet as the king placed his hand on his shoulder. He faced the hundreds of captivated guests, lifting his golden cup, declaring a toast. He then spoke solemnly, affirming the prince's admirable traits... proclaiming that he had all the qualities of a future king... and to this the crowd cheered, fully in agreement.

"The king lifted his chalice high into the air, beaming proudly, 'To my son!' A chorus of guests echoed him, raising their glasses too. But when the king lowered his chalice to complete the toast with a drink... his eyes stared into the cup and grew wide in horror. The glass flew from his hand, landing on the table with a resounding 'clank!'... wine spilling in every direction. And out of the chalice leapt two giant frogs... They darted from one end of the banquet table to the other, oozing slime and spreading chaos in the crowds. The guests cried out in confusion, making a mess of the food and decorations... Einherjar rushed in to expel the disruptive creatures. Meanwhile, the queen covered her mouth in an effort to hide her laughter... And the crown prince surveyed in bewildered disgust. Guards threw themselves on top of the tables, reaching for the perilous creatures. The entire hall gasped... for as soon as one of the guards succeeded in touching the frogs' legs... the two of them radiated green light, before vanishing into thin air.

"The king grew furious. He landed his fiery eye on a young man, seated by the queen's side... He was covered from head to toe in dark clothing, and had gone wholly unnoticed during the celebration, until then. The young man froze, eyes widening, as he clutched the tablecloth nervously in front of him. The whole hall stared in silence at the man. His face drained of all its color as the king raised a pointed finger at him, ordering his immediate absence for the rest of the evening. The young man dared to protest, requesting to speak with the king in private... But the king was tired of the young man's tricks and illusions. He reprimanded the man before the entire assembly, shaming him for his call for attention and his childish jealousy. The young man stood to his feet, trembling with shame. He lifted his watery gaze towards the queen... and she mirrored his helplessness. No one stopped him as he left the banquet hall, and no one went to him."

Thor grew silent as a gust of wind blew across the deck. The sound of rustling leaves swelled all around. The cold air made a shiver run through Jane's body... She pulled her plaid sleeves tight over her hands, and rubbed her arms for warmth.

"Why did he do that?" she wondered. "Does the story end there?"

Thor's gaze remained distant... aimed at the night sky. Exhaling, his giant shoulders rolled back, a graveness overcoming his voice.

"He did it... to save our father's life."

Jane's eyes grew wide.

"Wait... So you mean... this story... it actually happened?"

Thor nodded, "Aye. My father's cup had been poisoned. No one had seen. Not even the all-seeing Heimdall. Two of the banquet's guests, Brona and Magnir of Ringsfjord... were skilled at magic. They had turned a deadly poison invisible, slipping it into the All-father's cup. They planned to replace King Bor's descendants with the Nephaleus... creating a new order of kings. They also planned on taking advantage of the fact that neither of Odin's sons had come of-age. Yet their enchanted poison did not go wholly unnoticed. The young man sensed the threat through his tendrils of magic... his knowledge of the craft unbelievably beyond his years... Yet it wasn't until that day that his talents were considered more than a sign of cowardice and weakness.

"But when the truth came out, and the king finally recognized what had actually transpired... he quickly made amends. He issued a decree throughout Asgard, that honor be shown by all to the man who saved the king."

Jane drew in a breath, realizing she had been holding it.

"The young man in the story... that... that was Loki."

Thor made no reply, his eyes avoiding her gaze. Her eyebrows drew up, her expression betraying her puzzlement.

"I never would've imagined him... doing something like that."

The wind blew, sending Thor's golden mane swirling about his face. Eyelashes fluttering, he lifted his gaze higher and higher... fixing itself on a torch that burned bright in the heavens: the Northern Star. It twinkled alone in the night sky, permeating the hazy blanket of city light.

"That deed," he whispered roughly, "was but one of thousands more like it."

Jane swallowed, her throat closing.

"I've known him all my life, Jane," he said, struggling to keep his voice even, "A thousand years is a long time to know someone. And throughout that time, he ever stood faithfully at my side. Through battles, and trials... closer than my very shadow. He was my right-hand man in everything I did. During my _Trengsel_, he made sure I stayed on the path marked out, that I wouldn't lose my way. I would've perished long ago were it not for him."

Thor bent his head forward. "Loki... was the only soul in the nine realms in whom I could fully trust. He would always listen... offering his advice when I had no direction. He was my conscience, when I had none."

Thor's marred forehead twisted, half-hidden under his golden locks tangled by the wind. "When you met me, Jane... I was at a point in my life where I was yet full of pride, unaware of my arrogance. Despite every warning, I had, on numerous occasions, put those whose lives I should have protected, in harm's way. You found me just as I was beginning to understand the error of my ways."

Thor's head turned up, his eyes gazing directly into Jane's. She saw how they brimmed with tears.

"That was also when _Loki_ changed... into the man you saw on your TV... the man _I_ no longer knew. He went mad, with the revelation that he was not truly our blood. He was born of a different race deeply feared by the Aesir... and acting out of desperation for my father's approval, he sought to destroy the home-world of the frost giants, willing to hurt everyone who tried to stop him. In great despair, he threw himself into an abyss, in which we had thought he perished. But a year passed, and he returned, alive on Midgard. He had seen unknown worlds, entangling himself in influences that poisoned his mind... filling him with a lust for power and control. He had a starved, mad look in his eyes... that I did not recognize. After fighting on earth, I was torn, forced to consider the possibility that the Loki I grew up with would never return from that abyss where he had died. Thus... I left him to his prison cell... And yesterday is the first time I went down... And when I came to him, I saw how deeply he had mourned for our mother... His cell was utterly destroyed, shards of glass littering the floor... His foot bled. His clothes were ripped apart, and his eyes were swollen red..."

Thor's jaw clenched as he struggled to keep himself from choking. Jane gasped, covered her mouth with her hand.

He nodded weakly, drawing up a watery breath through his nose. Then his lips twitched up into a painful smile. "Yet from the moment he stepped out of that cell... to the moment he lay there, so peacefully still in my arms—I know I did not allow myself to trust him, or to believe it at the time—but it is clear to me now. Through his smug veneer and his sly, cutting remarks... the brother I knew, was still there. I saw glimmers of it on Midgard... And when he returned to his place by my side... he called me nothing but 'brother,' never once correcting himself. We fought _together,_ as we once did... and it was not hard to imagine a world in which the last two years of our lives had never occurred. As if nothing had ever changed. I saw him willingly throw himself in the way of that explosive to save your life... without a second thought. Immediately, I flew into him to save him from certain oblivion... And when he lifted his eyes, I saw that he did not expect himself to be saved... And when _I_ thought I was done for... the berserker pounding me into the ground until I had lost all my strength... Loki found me, saving my life at the cost of his own. He told me, repeatedly, before he died, how very _sorry_ he was. I did not know how I should respond... how to calm him, so I told him how I would tell father what he did there to save me. But he stared up at me, replying plainly, that he didn't do it for our father's sake. And then he died... as honorably as Mother did... offering up his life for another." Thor sighed tearfully, "She would have been very proud of him."

Jane dashed away a tear from her cheek, with her fist wrapped in her shirtsleeve. Both Thor's cheeks were wet with tears, trickling down his chin to his throat.

He lowered his head, the flowers in his hand capturing his attention once again.

He released a rattled sigh, his fingers brushing against the flowerpetals. "She taught us how every flower had a meaning... And this one was always very special, she told us... That we ought to remember its meaning, always... for as long as we both should live."

His arms drifted slowly toward Jane, until their elbows touched.

Thor paused. Then he held his palms out towards her. When she understood, Jane carefully took the clump of flowers between her fingers, holding them up toward the light. She now noticed them in their beautiful detail... how each petal curled upward... the stunning hues of pink and yellow... she stared at them in awe.

Thor gradually lowered his arms, his eyes lifting toward the Northern Star again.

"She told us this one meant 'brotherly love.'"

* * *

Loki moved cautiously along the gold-plated floors of the inner palace... casting a faint shadow of Odin's stout form upon the torch-lit walls. His boots hit the floor lightly... carefully avoiding drawing attention to himself.

Veering right, he headed toward an adjoining hall, lined with doors.

His feet knew their way well. He weaved with ease through the winding corridors, having trekked every single inch of the palace before, countless of times.

Every hall he passed was strangely empty. Most every Einherjar had moved from their usual posts, gathering themselves near city's outer wall, as "Odin" had instructed.

After descending an empty flight of steps, Loki landed on the level of healing chambers.

These rooms were run by Eir, Asgard's head healer, and her students. They worked for those living in the inner palace. But these rooms were currently deserted... every healer being called to attend those who were critically injured during yesterday's attack.

He entered the first healing room, adjusting his eyes to the dimness of the room, only lit by a single bowl of fire hanging from the ceiling. The room was round in structure, covered entirely with golden panels. The fire illuminated the room with a soft, bronze light. A healing table made of stone occupied the right side of the room.

Cupboards and shelves hung on the walls to the left... where a myriad of healing tools were set: Vials filled with vibrant, glowing potions; small, leather pouches containing magical healing stones; jars of all shapes and sizes holding glittering dust, dragon scales, fairy wings, bilshnipe scales... and apple-preserve, from the healing branches of Yggdrasil, the world tree.

Opposite the healing table, underneath the cupboards, stood a wooden desk. Its wooden surface was hardly visible beneath the piles of healing books, notes, and charts. To its right, against the wall, sat hundreds of healing records written in scrolls... probably hundreds of years old.

Loki lifted his chin. His one eye scanned every corner of the healing room, verifying that he was alone.

He waved his hand. The twin doors behind him rumbled, swinging together slowly, bolting themselves securely.

A green light flashed. The shadow of Odin elongated, growing half-a-foot in stature... beard vanishing, cape transforming into a fitted coat with long, individual flaps. His entire form grew lithe and thin. The spear flashed from sight.

Loki's slight form relaxed.

Barely.

Curling his hands into fists, he took several strides toward the healing table.

He stood, facing it, his chest-plate rising and falling with each breath.

Finally, his right hand swept in the air in a slow, deliberate motion.

Bright orange strands of sand-like particles appeared in the air, connecting the four poles that rose from the four corners of the healing table.

Loki took a step back, spreading his hands out in front of him, rigid fingers extended. He frowned, breathing once through his nostrils. Keeping his feet planted on the ground, he grunted through his teeth, willing magical energy to flow from his hands... watching as his fingers twitched with a burst of tension.

A white light beamed, originating from the center of the table. In a flash, Odin's body materialized... From the tips of his silvery hair, to the ends of his unmoving feet.

The light dimmed, and Loki's hands relaxed, dropping limply to his sides. He bent his head crookedly to one side, taking a faltering step toward the body. And halted.

He stayed there for an eternity, wrapped in the paralyzing sight of Odin's lifeless body. His veins pumped with adrenaline, his mind lost in a fog.

He could _not_ remember anything... between the moment he shut his eyes on Svartalfheim... and the moment he woke up...

To this absolute nightmare. Leaving his spot by the healing table, he turned toward the opposite side of the room, locating a stone, washing basin.

His pasty-white hands, smeared with bright-red blood, cupped themselves underneath the mouth of the pump. It obeyed, a stream of fresh water pouring out like a waterfall, splashing ice-cold water on top of his hands.

Blood-red water filled the basin below. Loki sucked in a breath.

He rubbed his palms together rapidly, with force.

Red water continued to flow...

Every bit of it had to come out. The water turned a lighter red as he scratched away the rusty stain in the cracks of his knuckles. He checked underneath his fingernails... Picked them clean, one by one.

He noticed that some of the blood had run down his wrists. He would have to remove his hand-armor.

Grunting, he pulled his hands from the basin and snatched a towel that hung near-by.

He dried his hands, returning the towel to its place, when he glanced sideways and paused. He caught sight of his reflection in a small, rusted mirror sitting on a desk.

A pale, angular face framed by ebony hair with split ends... Two ribbon-thin lips pressing themselves into a straight line. A pointed, chiseled nose and deep-set temples casting a shadow over his intensely light-grey eyes.

He hadn't seen himself since he stood facing the mirror in his cell, his fists clenched at his sides. An instant before he _screamed_... hurling a silver cup at the glass... shattering his image into a million, shiny pieces... shards of glass scattering themselves across the blinding, white floor.

Loki looked away, unknotting the green pieces of cloth that kept his hand-armor pieces in place. He unwound a strip in circles round his wrist, uncovering bloodstains round his left wrist.

He set the piece of armor down on the desk, starting to unwrap the bronze piece from his right.

The blood on his right wrist was noticeably thicker. Lifting green material, he uncovered dark, black stains.

In fact, they didn't look like dried blood at all. The lines seeped deep into his skin, like strokes of black ink...

Loki stopped unwrapping... his heart quit beating.

"What..." he whispered shakily.

His hands quivered as he hastily pulled the rest of the green fabric from his wrist. He took off his bronze vambrace, allowing it to clatter against the floor. He pulled his shirtsleeve up, as far as he could, holding his forearm up to the light of the fire...

Revealing a symbol, burned deep into his skin.

Loki's eyes darted up and down, examining the black lines, heart hammering against his ribcage.

He flipping his wrist over, back and forth in the candlelight... shaking his head in denial.

But the mark was there!

His vision blurred, coming and going in punctured bursts of light. But he could see its detail, becoming his sole focus: A strong black line starting at the back of his hand, going down past his wrist. Two more strokes, like feet, jutted out from the main stroke, angling down to the left, wrapping around the edge of his wrist. Like a tattoo, the mark had been stamped into his skin... traces of injury still lining its raised edges.

Loki knew the symbol well. It was an ancient rune, pronounced "Fehu."

When drawn upright, it symbolized prosperity, wealth and possessions.

But when the rune was turned upside down...

"_Fehu... Mal_," Loki uttered darkly. It meant the reverse.

_Failure. _

Loki's insides squirmed, darkness creeping along the edges of his vision, closing in...

_Bondage... Slavery..._

The air felt toxic. He suddenly couldn't breathe.

The mark on his wrist filled his vision... He could hear echoed cries in his mind, long silenced... He remembered the electric touch of a hand, holding him down... the hissing of steam as the heat suffocated him...

_Possession._

* * *

_To be continued... Please leave a review if you've enjoyed!_

_This chapter was loaded with images and symbols. Firstly, I must credit my friend Alydia Rackham for introducing me to the "Language of Flowers" via her own fanfictions (which you all *must* read if you haven't, immediately!) and can be found if you google "Language of Flowers" and "Aggie Horticulture."_

_And for those who are wondering, those runes "Fehu" and "Fehu Mal" do actually exist... google away so that you can see what they look like!_

_The story of the feast was inspired by the story in the book of Esther, of Mordecei saving the king from assassination._

_The title of the story was also explained...! The idea of a test of strength for the Aesir was a detail mentioned in the film "Thor: Tales of Asgard," a cartoon I highly recommend!_

_Fun trivia that might give you feels: the Northern Star was known as "Loki's torch" by the ancient Norns._

_Thanks for the reviews, shares and follows! I shall update soon. :)_


	3. Chapter 3

_Here's chapter three, everyone! Thank you, each one of you, for your reviews! You've inspired me so much with your input. This is going to get even more exciting, and challenging for our dear characters. _

_For the first section, I listened to "Double Trouble" from the soundtrack of HP: Prisoner of Azkaban. (Thank you, Alydia Rackham for the suggestion!). _

_For the second section, I listened to "Thor, Son of Odin" from the Thor: The Dark World soundtrack, and "As the Hammer Falls" for the third section._

_I listened to "Lucy Meets Mr. Tumnus" as I wrote the fourth section (the flashback). _

_And you should listen to "Lokasenna" for the remainder of the story. ;)_

_Enjoy..._

* * *

CHAPTER THREE

VVV

"Double, double, toil and trouble,

Fire burn and cauldron bubble...

By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes."

- William Shakespeare, _Macbeth_

* * *

The sound of crackling, red-hot embers and gurgling water filled the healing room. Firelight flickered dimly against the wall, illuminating the piles of leather-bound books stacked haphazardly atop a wooden desk.

Loki bent forward, sitting on the very edge of his stool. His right leg was bent, resting higher than the other, on the chair's crossbar. His other knee bounced up and down, as he slapped a heavy book on the desk, the first he had grabbed from the shelves on the opposite side of the room.

He flipped the cover open, and a cloud of dust emerged.

It was evident these books had not been used in over a century. Loki flicked away a trace of cobweb from the book's leathery edge and continued to flip.

He absorbed every diagram, every line of gold lettering written in a dozen ancient languages, as they flashed before him.

He flipped faster, with sweaty fingers, through hundreds of pages at a time. His eyebrows drew tight over clouded eyes as they darted left and right.

He let out a throaty sigh, slapped the book shut, and tossed it off to the right side of the desk.

He reached for the second book from the pile on the desk, slamming it down in front of him. Dust blew into his face, filling his nostrils. Loki felt a tickle build in his throat, but he resisted the urge to cough, swallowing it down.

He always handled books with such care. Presently, he ripped through them, with such force that the parchment nearly tore between his clawing motions. His hands shook, adding to the instability.

He pinched the corner of a page, but paused, before flipping.

Bringing his elbows up to the edge of the table, he snatched up the sides of the book, spreading it flat on the table. Strands of raven-black waves fell forward, hovering just above the paper.

"Here we are..." Loki sighed, underlining the words written at the top of the page with his index finger, "...potion for restoring memory."

He ran his hand over the surface of the book; his fingertips thrumming the table in a galloping rhythm. He scanned the page's contents, down to the last paragraph.

"Ingredients," he whispered. Inching his head closer, he read the first one...

_- A sprig of Maidenhair._

His knee bounced. Glancing up from the book, he examined the shelf above his head that held rows of glass jars. Most of them were unlabeled, but he saw a cluster of jars containing plants... leaves and samples... off to the far right end of the shelf.

He touched the floor, and when he stood, the shelf was at eye-level. He set his hands on his hips, clicking his tongue against the inside of his cheek as he looked through layers of glass.

He reached forward, bringing back a blue jar. It contained several dull-brown twigs covered in lime-green moss, riddled with stubs. He twisted the lid off and pulled out one of the branches. He set the jar back on the shelf.

Then he stepped in, toward the center of the healing room. There, a giant bowl of fire glowed, ablaze. Above its fiery light, Loki had placed an iron rack to support another bowl: a black, iron cauldron. From it rose a mist of boiling steam that reached the ceiling.

Loki released the Madenhair twig into the pot. It fell soundlessly, sinking below the burbling waters.

He returned next to the healing table, and read the next ingredient:

_ - A single petal of Columbine._

He lifted his head and quickly located jars filled with flower petals. He snatched the one that contained dried, purple ones.

He plucked one out... it was thin as paper... went to the cauldron, and watched it flutter down and melt in the red, churning mixture.

Back at the table, he read:

_ - Water from the spring of Hvergelmir. _

_ - A pinch of ash from Helheim._

He found the jars: one full of crystal-clear water, and the other with midnight ash. He poured each of them into the mixture. Steam hissed... like a snake bearing its teeth.

He read on:

_ - And the one ingredient you must _not_ forget: A single feather from the Jobberknoll bird._

Loki scanned the shelves... past larger ones filled with bilshnipe antlers and dragon's scales. He noticed ones filled with color... butterfly wings and feathers, but he didn't see the speckled, light-blue plume.

He pushed several jars aside, taking some down from the shelf, and peeking into others... until he found the one. It was safely stashed in the very back of the shelf in a small bottle: one remaining Jobberknoll feather. Its surface was blue like the sky... mottled with tiny, black dots.

Loki sighed between tight lips. He took the smooth feather out of the jar, between his fingers, and approached the cauldron once more.

He exhaled before lifting his hand over the cauldron. He released the feather over the waters, withdrawing his fingers quickly from the burning steam.

The plume touched the surface of the liquid. Sizzling, it began disintegrating. Then a long, high-pitched scream arose out of the cauldron. It resembled the sound of a bird, singing one long-lasting note before its death.

When the sound faded, Loki took the leather spellbook into the crook of his arm and straightened. He stretched out his left arm, spreading his fingers out toward the cauldron. Then he pronounced each word of the spell, slowly and precisely:

"_Getura betta potion... endur heimdata mingar... sem eghef misst... May this potion restore the memories I have lost. Byrja... nuna!_"

The flames received a jolt of life, rising high in the air. They flared, burning green for an instant, before returning to orange, lowering in intensity. The bubbling mixture cooled as steam dissipated, no longer howling.

Loki turned around, taking an empty potion-bottle from the desk. The glass was perfectly round beneath a thin neck. Strips made out of fine, golden wire wrapped around the glass in swirling patterns.

Dipping a silver ladle into the cauldron, Loki transferred frothy liquid into the flask, noting how it no longer steamed as he poured it carefully through the small bottleneck opening.

The stream of liquid glowed red, like wine.

He held the potion up in the air, hypnotized by the particles of ash that swirled in the sparkling liquid.

"Well... here's hoping."

The flask lingered close to his lips. He drew in a bracing breath, and pressed the mouth of the bottle to his lips.

Threw his head back and drank.

It singed the tip of his tongue, and tasted like burnt ash.

* * *

Darkness.

A thick cloud of crimson particles swept all around, like a hurricane wind... Aether tearing through the air like a million tiny shards of glass. They sliced through Thor's cape, and stung his skin as he pressed into the storm.

He panted hard, his lungs suffocating...

The wind whipped Aether everywhere... it slapped against his face. He pressed his eyes shut, wincing at the prickling pain. He gripped both of Jane's poles, tightly, lifting his right elbow just above his eyes, shielding them from red dust.

He could hardly make out the form of Malekith through squinting eyes and thick clouds of Aether. The dark elf stood with his arms outstretched above him. Cinders of Aether flew out of his hands and chest. They flowed into the air, red tendrils blackening everything in their path. The Aether hid the sky, entering through portals created by the convergence, spreading darkness... even into Asgard.

"Malekith!" Thor roared, raising his voice over the howl of the Aether.

The shadowed figure ahead of Thor stayed planted, only lowering his arms. Then he turned his head, slowly, one crystal-blue eye piercing through the dark expanse.

Thor stepped across the pavement, and the air surrounding him suddenly grew still. Malekith's tattered cape whipped gently behind him as they stood facing each other, in the eye of the storm.

"Darkness returns, Asgardian," Malekith's giant voice boomed, unnaturally low-pitched. He lifted his chin. "Have you come to witness the end of your universe?"

"I have come to accept your surrender," Thor retorted.

Lifting the spike in his right hand, he aimed it. Then he hurled it, straight at Malekith.

It whizzed through the air, and Malekith caught it, without batting an eye.

A tiny blue light on the spike blinked, in sync with a beeping noise. Malekith turned his head, lowering his arm, comprehending... just a moment too late.

The beeping accelerated.

In a burst, the spike blew itself into oblivion, taking Malekith's right arm with it. Malekith's right shoulder was now a black stub.

Thor swung again, throwing the second spike through the air. It landed, piercing Malekith's left shoulder.

The dark elf staggered backward, releasing a muffled howl before another burst claimed his left arm. Both stubbed shoulders continued to channel Aether, like sand, into the sky.

Thor's throat muscles worked. He held a third land-spike in his left palm...

"You think you can stop this?!" Malekith's voice boomed. He spread his stubs, the aether flowing out like two liquified arms. He growled. "The aether cannot be destroyed!"

"But you can," Thor replied. His right-hand fingers tensed, as he spread them. He reached behind his right shoulder, magnetic energy tingling in his palm.

Then he broke into a sprint.

His boots pounded on the pavement, hastening, spurred on by the magnetic tug increasing in his right palm.

A shout climbed in his throat, as he raised the land-spike, like a javelin, up to his ear.

_For Mother._

His feet were already half-way off the ground. Then he pushed himself off, with his toes.

His body flew with a reckoning force, momentum at its peak.

The mighty hammer Mjolnir piped through the air, sparking with energy. Thor stretched his right arm, high above his head, grimacing. His hand felt electrified.

Lightning bolts pulsed through his curling fingers, as he grasped the hammer tight.

_For Loki._

He swung. The heavy weight landed on the dark elf's head with a crack.

In the same moment, Thor drove the spike through Malekith's chest.

_BOOM!_

Sparks filled the air. The elf's body was blown backward. His back smashed into the foot of his ship.

Thor's body tumbled down, limbs twisting, and he landed flat on his stomach. His face met the grass.

He didn't move, and his vision went blank.

* * *

Darkness loomed, intruding upon Asgard. The giant, swirling portal that had formed above the Bifrost observatory had acted as a window into Midgard, and Thor's battle with Malekith. But as the Aether built in that realm, the portal went black, Midgard completely obscured.

The people of Asgard remained at a safe distance from the seashore as they witnessed the convergence from within the walls of the city. The energy shield was up, giving the people a sense of protection, where there was none.

Loki watched, as Odin, from the wall-walk above the city's golden gates. His war council stood in a half-circle at a distance behind him.

Heimdall stood far off to his right, his fiery-yellow eyes watching the conflict up-close.

"The realms are aligned," he reported. "Thor has yet to reach Malekith."

Seconds later, ink-black tentacles emerged from the portal, shrieking as they spread rapidly through the air, consuming everything in their path.

The city erupted in wailing terror. Loki gasped aloud as the Asbru bridge's glittering surface dulled, consumed by shadows that advanced, crossing the waters, heading towards the shining city. Half of the bridge turned into a black road, the Aether continuing to eat through crystal.

"I cannot see him now... he has entered the Aether storm." Heimdall's gaze remained distant, intense. "The fate of Asgard rests in his hands now."

An unsettled breeze blew silver braids across the weathered forehead of Odin. Gungnir stood straight at Loki's side, and his other hand clutched the edge of a parapet in the city wall as he leaned forward. His clouded eye danced between the half-obscured bridge and the portal above it.

His chest constricted. It tugged him upward, closer to the edge of the wall, until he had to catch himself with Gungnir to maintain his balance.

A blast disturbed the air. It silenced the shrill, scraping noise of the aether. Then the red liquid scattered, retreating from the golden gates of Asgard... shrinking back from the asbru bridge... being sucked back into the vortex from whence it came.

The air drew silent. Loki's breath shuddered.

Beyond the portal's oval frame, he could make out a distant figure draped in red. He lay face-down on a grassy field amidst scattered ruins, hands spread near his head, unmoving.

His hammer lay in the midst of the rubble, a few feet away.

Then another figure moved into view... a woman.

Her straight, long, dark-brown hair flew behind her as she entered the courtyard from the side, her hand resting against a stone pillar. A thin layer of soot masked her delicate features, and she wore Midgardian clothing: trousers; bright, red boots; and a brown dusty jacket.

She lifted her face to the sky, and Loki saw directly into her eyes.

It was her. Thor's woman. Jane.

Her eyes grew wide.

Then he saw what she saw: The enormous elven ark, high as a skyscraper, starting to crumble... its metallic plating flaking off like scales. The base of the ark shot out from underneath it, and it lowered with a crash, a cloud of dust rising from the weakened point.

It started to tip in the direction of Thor as he lay unconsciously on the grass.

"Thor!" Jane cried, rushing straight in the ark's path. Stooping down, she scrambled for his shoulders. She managed to flip him over. Thor now faced the sky, but his eyes remained shut.

The front of the ark tipped forward with increasing momentum, coming down toward them like the blade of a giant axe.

They would be crushed.

They would both die.

Loki lurched forward. The stone railing pressed painfully into his belly, stopping him from going over the edge. He gazed helplessly, watching Jane's futile efforts as she yanked Thor's arm pulling with all her weight. But Thor's stubborn frame wouldn't budge.

She glanced up at the bending ship. Back down at Thor.

Instead of running, she got on her knees and wrapped her arms around Thor's middle, pressing her head to his breastplate. She shut her eyes.

The ship's shadow hid their forms. Loki's heart skipped a beat.

The very next instant, the ark disappeared.

Loki blinked, feeling the heat building between his eyes.

Winded silence...

Jane blinked her eyes open, her eyebrows squeezed tight.

An older man... Erik Selvig... stood a stone throw's away from her, holding a square, metal device in his hands. He grinned proudly, calling to her. She sat up and glanced about, seeing him. Then she laid her head back down on Thor's chest.

His eyes fluttered open, staring up at the sky.

Loki sighed. And the corner of his mouth lifted, just a hundredth of an inch.

Heimdall echoed the sigh. "I saw Malekith appear on Svartalfheim, my Lord... It would appear that he was crushed beneath the weight of his own ship."

Loki's lips thinned themselves out. "How fitting," he replied, unable to disguise the satisfaction in his voice.

Then he straightened, facing Heimdall. "The aether... is it gone?"

Heimdall shifted his gaze. "No, it exists, intact on Svartalfheim, resting underneath Malekith's remains."

The portal above the Bifrost shrunk, and Loki turned away from it. His eye focused on a distant point, past the skyline.

"I hereby put Sif and the Warriors Three in charge of retrieving the Aether. They must bring it here, and secure it in the vault."

A guard nodded, "As you wish, my Lord."

Loki added, "Heimdall, the Bifrost may be reopened, but do _not_ allow Thor to enter the city before I am personally notified. I must know straightaway, as soon as he calls for you. He must not enter the palace until I have spoken with him... Yes?"

"Yes, my King," Heimdall replied, inclining his head.

And before anyone else could put in a word, Loki removed himself from the council's presence. He gave no explanation or excuse.

They knew their king was still in mourning, so no one dared stop him.

* * *

"_Overdoing it _just a bit,_ don't you think?"_

_Loki's slight nose backed away from the stone statue that stood in front of his face. His eyes, wide and green, studied the sculpture's chiseled features with a narrowed brow. He withdrew his charcoal stick, holding it betwixt his lithe, little fingers. _

_Thor stood just a few feet away. His blonde head tilted to the side, blue eyes narrowing. He wore his favorite navy-blue tunic with red accented fabric. Brown-leather bracers covered his wrists, and his fisted hands rested on his hips. _

"_The left side doesn't match the right," Thor added._

"_Oh, really?" Loki exclaimed, "Well... I think it's a very accurate prediction."_

_Thor's eyebrows shot up. "It doesn't even _look_ like a beard!" _

_Loki turned, crossing his arms. He stared at Thor through squinting eyes... thin lips smiling. _

"_Perhaps you think you'd do better?"_

_Thor took a step forward. "I _know_ I'd do better." _

_Thor's fist snatched up the charcoal stick from Loki's hand, nearly shoving his brother to the side. He strode up to another statue, also the statue of a boy, but its face greatly resembled Loki's. _

_Thor's hand hesitated above the stony face, his tongue sticking through his lips._

_Loki snickered. "You don't even know how to hold the stick correctly..."_

"_Shut up, Loki." _

_Thor lifted his chin. Then, his eyes lit up, and he grinned. _

_He waved the charcoal stick in the air, making quick motions. The air filled with scratching noises, as he marked the gray stone with chalky, black lines._

_Loki meandered, not far off, toward a stone pillar. Leaning against it, he crossed his arms again, continuing to watch Thor create his masterpiece. _

_Thor pulled his hand away in a sweeping motion as he finished his last stroke. His smile widened._

"_Behold!" Thor declared, stepping back to reveal a pair of hideously thick, black lines drawn just above stone-Loki's lips. The strokes ended in ridiculous, swirling curls that extended over stony cheeks. _

"_That," Loki articulated, "is the absolute _worst_ beard I've ever seen."_

"_It's not a beard, silly oaf! It's a mustache," Thor explained, "They're quite popular on Midgard. I think it suits you. Besides, there's no way you could ever grow a full beard, like Father's."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Your chin's never grown a single hair!"_

"_So?"_

"_So... you can't grow a beard."_

"_Says who?"_

"_Says mother!" _

_Loki's smile erased itself from his face. "She... what did she tell you?" _

"_She said you would never outgrow that baby-face of yours."_

_Loki cocked his head. "Then that's very different." _

"_Boys... What is this?"_

_Thor and Loki jumped at the sound of the voice, calling from behind. _

_They turned to see their mother, draped in sparkling golds and yellows. She stood in the center of the long hall, shaking her head, mouth pressed into a steady frown. _

"_What have you done to those statues?" she demanded, "Your Father just commissioned them four months ago!" _

"_Er..." Thor stammered, "Loki... Yes! _Loki_ thought it'd be funny if we... if we... well, you see..."_

"_It was only in jest, Mother," Loki interjected, "But do not fret... No permanent damage has been done. The paint, you see, is absolutely..."_

_He took up a small rag from his belt, and spitting on it, rubbed it in circles against the stony cheek of Thor's statue. _

_Loki's eyes widened when the black paint remained just as it was. He deepened his rubbing motions, shoulder tensing. _

_Finally he withdrew, hiding the rag behind his back, facing Mother. Scarlet crept up his cheeks. _

"_Soluble?... Or, not." _

_Frigga remained silent, gazing sternly at the two boys who slumped before her. Her mouth quirked, betraying a smile, as she clasped her hands together in front of her, releasing a melodic sigh._

"_You will both clean up this mess, immediately. It doesn't matter who thought of it first, you will both clean it up, since you both played a part. And I'd do it before your father sees... unless you'd like to see him very upset." _

_Thor and Loki both nodded. "Yes, Mother."_

"_And don't be late for supper... it begins in an hour," she added, "And you must wear clean clothes." _

_Loki saw Thor's tunic out of the corner of his eye, and it was covered in gray stains, especially underneath his belt._

_Frigga shook her head, sighing through a smile, as she walked back up the hall. _

_Loki rolled his shoulders back, releasing his arms to rest at his sides._

_A knuckled fist struck Loki's arm without a warning. _

"_Ow!" Loki exclaimed. "What?!"_

"_You liar!" Thor cried, "You said the paint wouldn't stain them... Now Father's going to kill us!... What on earth were you thinking?" _

"_The paint _will _come out, I promise," Loki replied, "It just... might not be as easy as I thought." _

_Loki strode up the hall, waving at Thor. "Come on... we had better fetch some cleaning supplies."_

_They both left the hall, returning quickly with two buckets brimming with soapy water, rags draped over their shoulders, and brushes with horse-hair bristles in their hands. _

_They scrubbed for nearly an hour. Loki's hands began to sting._

"_Oww! Thor, look!... My hands are all red!" Loki showed Thor his pinkish palms._

"_Mine are too... At least _I'm_ almost done with your mustache..."_

"_Oh no you don't! You're going to help me with your beard as soon as you're done."_

_Thor inhaled through his nose. Craning his neck, he looked up... past the stone brothers, to a pair of colossal statues: the king and queen, whose heads nearly touched the ceiling, a hundred feet above their heads. _

"_Loki, do you ever wonder what we will be like?" _

_Loki's nose wrinkled. "What do you mean?"_

"_I mean, do you ever wonder...? Father always tells us such extraordinary tales, of all the places he's been... I wonder if we'll do the same things, or different things. In a thousand years, we could be far, far away... fighting a battle... exploring the realms. He's been to them all, you know. And someday, we could too."_

"_We could... Except we can never visit Jotunheim." _

_"Well right... every realm except for that one. But if we were kings... we could change the law that forbids it."_

"_Only _one_ of us gets to be king, remember?" Loki corrected._

_Thor threw his hands up in the air. "Look, fine! _You_ can be king... but _I_ get to be the greatest warrior the nine realms has ever seen!" _

_Loki shook his head. His smile faded. Lowering his arm, he eyed Thor momentarily before scrubbing again. "...with a gloriously-long beard."_

_Thor flashed a smile, showing the whites of his two front teeth. He chuckled loudly._

_A distant, padding noise filled Loki's ear, and he quit scrubbing._

"_Uh oh..." Loki whispered. Thor traced Loki's gaze up to the other end of the hall, and saw him. _

_Their father's frame, half-hidden in shadows cast by rows of pillars, which lined both sides of the hall. He wore his layered, copper robes and heavy, black boots. He entered slowly, a scroll opened in his hands before him, his gaze buried in the parchment page. He hadn't looked up at them yet, but he was heading straight their way. It was just a matter of seconds before he took notice of their presence._

_Thor quietly lowered the brush in his hand. Swallowing, he met Loki's eyes, which stared back at him, jittery. Thor bared his teeth, eyebrows lifting, silently echoing Loki's trepidation of what was to come. _

_Odin's footsteps slowed to a halt. Thor lifted his head, meeting their Father's steely gaze as Odin glanced up from his scroll. Loki, instead, lowered his head, bringing the bridge of his nose between his fingers._

_The All-Father's eye gathered everything in the room: the water buckets, the brushes and rags... the statues with sparkly, soapy beards... the guilt-ridden expressions on his sons' faces... _

"_Did you two do this...?"_

_Thor answered with silence. Loki's face burned. He also bit his tongue. _

_The silence lingered, and Odin simply nodded. _

"_I see."_

_Thor and Loki fidgeted underneath his penetrating gaze. _

_The parchment in his hands crinkled as he rolled the scroll up and turned his back on his boys. He thudded up the hall, each step like a weight hitting the ground. He tapped the folded paper against his hip, adding without taking a glance back:_

"_You had better clean it up before your mother sees..." _

_Thor and Loki stared after him until he disappeared from sight, mouths hanging agape. They glanced in each others' direction, their expressions matching. _

_Then the colonnade echoed with light, stifled laughter, the two boys hardly able to contain their surprised relief._

Loki shook himself presently. He blinked until his one-eyed vision cleared.

He stood, in the guise of Odin, in the shadow of a pillar. Afternoon rays of light rippled through the dusty air, through each row of intricately-carved columns, casting long shadows across the uneven, stone floor.

From a distant hall, on the other side of the palace, the sound of scraping chisels and pounding hammers echoed, reaching Odin's ears, the reconstruction of Asgard's throne already underway. There, Asgard's most skilled metalworkers, designers and craftsmen sawed, molded, and pounded to restore everything back to its original state.

Loki wandered deeper into the hall, the aroma of burning incense filling his nostrils. His gaze remained fixed on the familiar faces of two boys made out of stone. Their figures stood straight ahead. Their faces bore a look of serenity; the sides of their arms were nearly touching. Two large, stone hands lay resting on top of their shoulders, belonging to their parents, the king and queen. Their carved bodies stood just behind the two princes.

Loki's gaze went up their hands and arms, past their shoulders, resting on empty space above their necks.

Their heads were gone.

Demolished.

Now scattered amongst the piling rubble at their stony feet.

A giant hole had been ripped in the ceiling above the statues. And a column... torn in half... rested, angled against the legs of the king's statue.

Soft giggling and echoed, tip-toeing footsteps rang in Loki's ears.

A shadow of a blonde-headed boy dressed in blue flittered across Loki's vision, before disappearing in shadow, passing behind a column to his right.

Loki lifted a finger to his brow, rubbing deep-set wrinkles with his thumb... wrinkles that weren't his own. He sighed deeply...

This potion wasn't exactly working the way he had hoped.

Once again, he heard the clanking rows of footsteps approach him from behind. He groaned tiredly.

"Thor has returned, my Lord."

The guard's words sent a shock through Loki's system. He spun round, facing the group of Einherjar. His expression hardened into a scowl.

"The mortal is not with him, then?"

"No, my Lord... only the Prince himself arrived... And he wished to inform you that he also seeks a private audience with you, before any sentence is carried out."

_Sentence?_

Loki inhaled, throat feeling musty. Keeping his stance, he lowered his bearded chin.

"Yes. Bring him here, before the throne room. I will speak with him there."

* * *

Like a lion without a cage, Loki paced the floor of the outer courtyard, the main entryway leading into the throne room.

His wrinkled hands wrung each other restlessly, folded behind his back.

He had hid his spear away... _Very_ much away.

He watched over the rooftops of the city, and below, across busy streets and flowing rivers that ran on either side of the central path of the rainbow bridge. Two towers stood on either side of the landing, statues of armored gatekeepers bearing spears and shields, and bowls of fire-lit torches behind them.

His pacing ceased as something caught his eye: A tiny spot of color moving across the orange-purple sky, flying above the gleaming towers near the horizon.

It flapped in the sky like a sail, a red caped man on a gliding ship. The winged transport zoomed past spires and arches, approaching the place where the rainbow bridge meets the palace, disappearing beneath an overpass, landing somewhere in a ship hanger below.

It was Thor, escorted by a cluster of Einherjar, who surrounded him. They crossed a small bridge over a road below, and Loki had to crane his neck to keep them within sight.

Tree tops and stone hid them again, before they entered through a door in the base of a hollow tower. They ascended inside, using a spiraling flight of stairs leading up to the landing where Loki currently stood.

A tremble in his right hand returned. He made a conscious effort to calm his breaths, watching the door where Heimdall emerged first.

A burning itch tickled his wrists, begging him to scratch the raised skin underneath his shirtsleeve... underneath his carefully-woven illusion.

Two guards, carrying spears, trailed behind Heimdall, the shadowed staircase behind them unoccupied.

_Clank... clank... clank..._

Loki's eyes grew wide, recognizing the eerily, familiar sound.

The sound of jingling metal, drawing closer, rising from the spiral stairs beyond the door.

_Clank... clank... clank..._

Loki dropped his arms to his sides, curling his hands into fists, when he saw Thor appear.

Thor's wrists were bound together in front of him...

By heavy, metal shackles.

* * *

_To be continued... Please leave a review if you enjoyed! :) I love hearing your thoughts._

_Notes: The Jobberknoll bird detail was taken from the Harry Potter wikipedia. It was the only mention of "memory potion" I found on google-search. It was an interesting detail that I had to borrow._

_And I don't know about all of you, but I LOVE the film "The Prince of Egypt," and the flashback section was more or less inspired by scenes from it. Another great (tragic) story about brothers. I also harkened back to that moment when Edmund in "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" drew those eyeglasses and mustache on the stone lion in the Witch's courtyard. ;)_

_Review! Subscribe! I shall update as soon as I can for the next one!_


	4. Chapter 4

_ Thank you all for your very encouraging feedback! I always love hearing your thoughts!_

_ I must thank my dear friend, Alydia Rackham, for helping me with events and edits in this chapter. Also, I want to thank my cousin Maddie for the endless encouragement!_

_ Before reading this chapter, I would highly recommend listening to "Gollum's Song" from the Lord of the Rings soundtrack (quoted below). It goes perfectly with section three! Go open up another tab RIGHT NOW and listen to it!_

_ For section two, I listened to "Deliverance (extended)" on youtube, and Gandalf Falls (extended). And for section three, I listened to "Letting Go" from the Thor soundtrack. :'( Nothing for section four! _

_ Enjoy..._

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR

VVV

"Where once was light, now darkness falls

Where once was love, love is no more

Don't say goodbye

Don't say I didn't try...

These tears we cry are falling rain

For all the lies you told us,

The hurt, the blame!

And we will weep to be so alone

We are lost! We can never go home."

- Gollum's Song

* * *

_ Clank._

Thor's chains jangled as he halted, just a few meters before Loki.

Loki stood in the shade of the palace archway, which led into the throne room, still draped in the illusion of Asgard's King.

The sun waned in the starlit horizon by the sea, drenching the outer courtyard with golden rays of light. Thor hung his head, avoiding eye contact, a thick lock of golden-yellow hair half-hiding his blood-streaked forehead.

Heimdall and a row of Einherjar stood at a distance from the shackled prince, awaiting their king's next order.

Loki sucked in a breath. He leaned in, taking an uneasy step towards Thor.

Thor did not lift his eyes. He stared down at his chained fists, silent as a lamb.

"Are you all right?" Loki asked, disguising his voice as Odin's. It felt unnatural and sounded strange in Loki's ears.

Thor sighed deeply. His head stayed lowered as he replied, "I suppose it all depends upon your meaning of 'all right.' Though, I _am_ back in one piece."

Loki eyed Thor's chains, his eyebrow arching upward.

"Well, I must say... this is not the way I expected to receive you."

Thor did not smile. Loki's eye remained on Thor's downcast expression. He inched his head forward. A moment passed. His eyebrows drew together and he smiled.

"But, I do confess... I am very glad to see you."

Thor lifted his head. His eyebrows shot upward. "You... You are?"

Loki lowered his head. "Well, yes. You had me worried there, for a bit. You faced Malekith alone... But I did not think to punish you for that."

Thor's lips parted. His body slumped, his gaze dropping toward the ground. "Yes, but I disobeyed you... That is not to say that I... regret taking action. Because I am certain I would have chosen the same path if it lay before me again. Nor was I unaware, upon setting out, that my plan would require some sort of sacrifice. I knew every option had its own set of risks. And yet, I was foolish, for I did not consider that the consequences for my actions would be great. Now I know... what it truly means to disobey the king."

"I am... your father," Loki replied, "And what matters most to me, in this moment, is that you are alive."

Thor's blue eyes stared. His jaw twisted to one side, and he released a long, heavy sigh.

"Father... There is something I must tell you, of what happened... When we were on Svartalfheim... Though we yet grieve for the loss of Mother..."

Loki watched as a tremble passed through Thor, from his forehead down to his toes. He drew in three steady breaths. Then he stiffened. And barely above a whisper, he spoke.

"Loki is dead... because of me."

Loki closed his mouth, maintaining a steady, hollow expression. He made sure his face didn't flinch, didn't reveal emotion, as Thor continued unevenly.

"He saved my life, stabbing the monster who helped kill Mother. He saved me... He fought, by my side. He protected Jane, following our plan perfectly. When I decided to bring him with us, I made sure his hands were bound, so he wouldn't try betraying me again. But he never did betray me. I know... you would have been proud of him, Father."

Loki glanced away. He watched a group of trees, rustling above the rooftops near the balcony, and kept his focus there, away from Thor's gaze.

Thor's voice quieted. "I should have listened to you, Father. Now... because of my disobedience... Loki is dead. I am truly... truly sorry."

The elder prince's voice broke, and he gasped for air. Loki shut his eyes.

"He is gone. And I am forever in his debt. So I _should_ be judged, according to your law, Father, for if I had just... If I had just obeyed, none of this would have happened! I shouldn't have sought him out. I shouldn't have gone to him... Yes, he'd still be locked up in that dungeon, but at least he would have _lived._ And I shouldn't have taken him there... If only I knew... If only I knew that bringing him there would serve in getting him _killed..._ We were fools, on a fool's errand... protecting Jane from a force we couldn't even hope to contain... and of course, my plan didn't even work... we didn't succeed in destroying the aether. And Loki died, because he agreed to help me protect Jane from a force we... didn't even understand. No different than how Mother died... He followed in her footsteps..."

Loki's eyes widened. He inclined his head towards Thor. "What... what did you say?"

"'I'll take care of her,'" Thor replied, "Those were the last words Mother said to me. And she did. She hid Jane from Malekith, and Loki... he told me, exactly the same thing."

Loki shuddered.

"He told me he would protect her... at all costs. We agreed. That was our plan. And he followed it, to the end. So, yes, Jane was saved. The universe, saved. Our Mother avenged. But, at what cost? Loki... he... he is gone! Forever. He is _dead_. And why? What was even _the point_?!"

Thor's chains clattered—he tore himself away.

Loki couldn't breathe.

Cape sweeping behind him, Thor crossed over to the balcony's edge, and faced the city. Waterfalls crashed, far below, shadows growing long in Asgard's streets.

Thor's frame tensed. His breathing came in short gasps.

Then he spoke, but Loki could not make out the words.

Descending two steps, Loki stepped out of the shadow of the palace and into the balcony. His skin felt hit with warmth as soon as he stepped into the light. He squinted.

The sun, in its golden hour, lit the sky ablaze, rimming every skyscraper, every rooftop in the city with fiery orange. Over the balcony's ledge, shimmering rapids formed two rivers that flowed from the palace to the sea, like two panes of glass, reflecting apricot hues back into the air. The glow surrounded Thor's head, resembling a crown made of burnished gold, highlighting his blonde mane in soft, caramel light. Every scale on his silver shoulders gleamed with a shining brilliance that outmatched the stars.

When Thor spoke again, he did so barely above a whisper.

"I wish... Mother were here."

Thor slowly angled his head towards Loki and twin tears... like glittering diamonds, flowed down Thor's cheeks, into his beard.

Loki's illusion flickered, imperceptibly.

He bit his lip, and replied softly, "Me too."

Thor's face grimaced, and smiled at the same time.

"When things were unclear, she always knew precisely what to say... didn't she."

Loki's lips parted.

"Thor, you must know, that Loki's death, it... wasn't of your making. Perhaps it was fate_._ Perishing... was his fate... and nothing would have stopped it, nothing... you could have done would've prevented it from happening."

Thor looked right at Loki. He did not blink. He stared for an eternity, his eyes shining. Thor's lip trembled.

"It's just that I..." he choked, "I fought so hard... to save _him._"

His face twisted.

And then he broke. His head lowered, and he shuddered, silent tears streaming down.

Loki's throat closed.

He stiffened.

His arm took on a will of its own—and in one heart-pounding moment, he nearly reached out for Thor's shoulder.

The illusion would come down.

Heat flashed across the back of his hand.

He flinched, clamping his fingers into a fist.

_ NO. _

_ No, I must not..._

_ I _must _NOT._

Suddenly, his vision flashed.

Thor's skin glowed yellow and red, like a sun. Loki felt like he was staring at a target on a map.

Loki's heart slammed into his chest.

His left hand flew up to his breastplate. He took a step back.

His vision flashed again, and Thor's skin returned to its natural color.

Thor lifted his bright blue gaze. "Are you all right, Father? Are you unwell?"

An Einherjar, who had been standing at a nearby pillar, took a step towards his king, ready to lend his assistance. Loki quickly held up his other hand.

"No! No... I'm simply... shaken... by this news." He lowered his arms, closed his hands to fists, turning away. "That is all."

Thor inhaled a watery breath, and nodded.

"Thor!"

Loki turned, seeing Sif. She looked just as she did when he last saw her. Her battle armor firmly in place, and the knife that she had held up to his throat as she threatened to kill him firmly secured in her belt.

She rushed up to Thor. Then her large, brown eyes caught sight of his chains.

"I'm sorry—What has happened?" she asked.

Then she looked up, and saw Thor's face.

"Thor! What's wrong...?" she exclaimed.

She searched him, frowning. "Is it Loki?"

Thor's limbs quaked. He finally nodded, his eyes brimming with fresh tears.

Her gaze widened. "Is he...?"

Thor choked.

Sif reached out, without hesitation, touching his arm.

"Oh, Thor...! I'm so sorry," she moaned, gripping his arm.

Loki shivered. He drew himself up, and waved his hand for one of the guards.

"Unchain him," he ordered, "He is no prisoner, he is your _prince_. Unchain him, now."

The guard responded right away. Sif backed up, sniffing as the guard unlocked the rune-inscribed shackles. They snapped off. The Einherjar went back to his spot with the others.

Thor dropped his arms wearily to his sides.

"Thor, I would have you go to your chambers, and stay there until daybreak. You need sleep." He paused, and added emphatically, "As do I..."

"Yes, you must rest," Sif agreed.

She slid her hand down to Thor's elbow. But Thor lifted a hand in protest. She withdrew.

"I cannot. Not until I complete a certain task. Father, with your permission, I wish to return to the Dark World. I made an oath, when there was no time, that I would return and retrieve his body. I fled in haste, the threat of darkness still looming, leaving him there, and he is still there. So, I must go back and find him... Please, I must."

Loki's shoulders fell, a heavy weight pressing down on his chest. His every limb grew weak.

He nodded once.

"Yes. Go now, leave quickly. Join Sif and the warriors, who are going for another purpose. If doing this is your wish... I shall not stop you."

Thor's right hand curled into a loose fist. He set his jaw and dipped his head.

"Thank you, Father."

* * *

The dark sky loomed above Sif's head, thick clouds of ash shrouding the green sky of Svartalfheim.

Dust flew against Sif's bare shoulder. She stood atop a stone, overlooking black, desert plains scattered with ruins of elven ships, that stretched on and on for miles. Down in the barren valley to her left, Thor, cloaked in red, trudged on ahead of the group. The warriors Fandral and Volstagg remained many paces behind Sif, at the foot of the hill.

Volstagg carried a box, handling it with great care. Its golden frame contained two square rocks, and a slit down the middle glowed red. It hummed.

The Aether had been gathered earlier that day. They had found it near Malekith's remains, along the ground where the ship lay. Unfortunately, Heimdall could not help in Thor's search. Heimdall could only focus on living things.

When Thor had met them in the bifrost chamber the previous day, the warriors noticed he had not changed his armor after the fight with Malekith. He hadn't washed his face. His forehead still gleamed with blood. The prince made no eye contact as he bent down to pick up his hammer where he had left it, handling it stiffly. Sif could tell he hadn't slept since the death of his mother, the Queen. Fandral took a risk and pulled Thor aside, telling him, "It's all right, the mission can wait. You haven't even stopped to catch your breath!" But Thor replied that he wouldn't leave Loki's body one more minute. They would leave immediately.

So, Thor's friends had followed him, searching the Dark World from dawn till dusk. Presently, the green sun set over a craggy hill.

"Perhaps we should take a rest, for now!" Fandral called.

"I... concur!" Volstagg panted, slowing his pace.

Sif glanced down the valley towards them, shaking her head.

"Thor does not wish to stop. We must keep going, while there is still light in the sky."

"For pity's sake, Sif! Volstagg hasn't eaten anything in hours!" Fandral complained, "Very soon he'll collapse... Isn't that right, Volstagg?"

Volstagg wheezed. "A mouthful of honey cakes would do me rather well, now that you mention it."

She shot them both a glare, and continued ahead, descending the hill into the valley.

Fandral gave a labored sigh.

He stepped forward, following Sif. His foot slipped on the ash.

"The norns!" he grunted, "I do hope we're not going around in circles. Haven't we climbed this hill already? _Everything_ in this god-forsaken realm looks exactly the same!"

The wind swept, and Volstagg coughed, unable to reply.

Sif peered ahead, spotting Thor again. His thick, red cape flapped in the air. Otherwise he stood motionless.

She stopped.

_ Did he find Loki...?_

"Thor!" Sif called out.

Thor remained stone still, facing away.

She glanced behind, unable to see Volstagg and Fandral. They were probably still climbing.

She took another step down the side of the hill, steep as a mountain, careful not to slide on the volcanic rock. It was difficult, but she kept her eyes on her feet, until she landed on level ground.

Her leg muscles relaxed. When she saw Thor again, he no longer stood.

He knelt.

His cape draped over his legs. His hair blew in the wind, tangling to one side.

The sifting air also disguised the sound of her footsteps. As she slowed to a stop a few feet behind him, she wondered if he was aware at all of her presence.

His head remained bent forward. He slowly reached out, and dug his fingers into the sand. He picked up ash in his palm, holding it, allowing the wind to blow some of it away. Some of it fell threw the gaps between his fingers.

Sif could hear him speak.

She inched closer so she could hear the words he said.

She paused in her step, recognizing the words.

A prayer. An ancient lament, often spoken, just before a funerary pyre was cast off to sea.

"_Lo... det ser jeg min bror._"

_ Lo... there do I see my brother, _he had said.

Thor lifted his face to the sky, toward the hidden stars. His voice came out again, shaky and grave.

"_Lo... det ser jeg min mor._"

Sif felt a tight pinch in her throat. She shook against another cold gust. It blew through her chain mail, sending a shiver across her skin.

_ Lo... there do I see my mother._

His frame lifted and his voice continued in earnestness.

"_Lo, de roper til meg... De byr meg ta min plass blant dem, I de evige haller av Valhalla._"

_ Lo, they do call out to me... They bid me take my place among them, in the eternal halls of Valhalla._

His fingers curled, over the dust in his palm, tightening until his fist shook violently, sand grinding through his trembling fingers.

"_Hvor dine fiender er beseiret. Hvor den modige skal leve for alltid..._"

_ Where thine enemies have been vanquished. Where the brave shall live on forever..._

His voice broke, even though it carried a stronger sound.

"_Og hver __tåre skal tørkes bort!_"

_And __every tear will be wiped away!_

He gave a watery gasp. Then he lifted his palm, and his fingers loosened.

"_Vil det ikke __være mer smerte, eller sorg eller død..._"

_There will be no more pain, or sorrow, or death..._

He opened his hand and allowed the wind to carry every bit far away.

"_For de gamle tingene vil __forgå..._"

_For the old things will pass away..._

He slowly lowered his hand into his lap. Then he remained like that, absolutely still, for minutes.

Then, setting his palms on the black sand, he pushed himself up. He heavily got to one knee. He gathered himself, then stood up, exhaling.

He halfway turned, absently surveying the mountainous horizon, scanning from right to left.

Then his gaze caught on Sif.

Lines pressed deep in his forehead and between his eyebrows. He closed his mouth momentarily as he swallowed. And Sif saw directly into his darkened gaze, watching blue waves of water crash over a turbulent sea.

Her arm muscles tensed, her face heating up.

But she couldn't look away from the raw storm in his eyes.

His eyebrows twitched. Then he turned his gaze up towards the mountains, and when he spoke again he didn't address her. He whispered to the wind once more, finishing the prayer.

"_Og vi skal møtes igjen, på den fjerne land utover... og glede oss i den stigende solen._"

_And we shall meet again, on that distant shore beyond... and rejoice in the rising sun._

* * *

_TWO YEARS AGO..._

_Loki dragged in quick, desperate breaths of thin air._

_ His lungs burned, entire chest arrested in pain, because he couldn't get enough... Never enough... _

_ He clenched his jaw, but his teeth chattered still._

_ His hands had frozen stiff. He wrapped them around his armored waist._

_ He walked on, panting hard._

_ How long had he walked? _

_ Hours?... days?... weeks?_

_ He did not know. _

_ Somehow, he had survived the impact of his fall, waking up, disoriented, nauseated... in a man-sized crater surrounded by rubble. Half his ribs had been fractured, and he couldn't feel his legs for a long time. He lay there for days, perhaps (because if he moved an inch he felt like he was snapping himself in two), his body barely healing itself. As much as he tried to center his magic, focusing it on healing the wounds in his back and his abdomen, the faint tendrils wove incredibly slowly. _

_ With each passing hour, he had grown colder and colder. So he tried conjuring up another set of armor, one with insulation suited for colder climate. When he crossed his arms and slapped his hands on his shoulders, it did nothing. He tried a verbal command... that didn't work either. Even the simplest methods of magic, like waving and clapping, proved useless. He couldn't even produce a flame when he snapped his fingers._

_ The reason for this unfortunate setback, he concluded, was that there wasn't enough magic _in the air_ to conjure anything up. Without the aid of magic in the air, he could only use his internal magic... which ran low because of his physical state. _

_ There was nothing left to do, but to walk. So he pressed on through the endless void. _

_ Pitch black surrounded him... not a single light illuminating his footsteps, nothing shining but the faint stars above... constellations he did not recognize. They gave him no sense of direction. _

_ He was lost. _

_ His foot faltered and he stumbled. He flung his hands forward and caught himself on a jagged rock. _

_ His fingers curled around the rock and he grimaced, fresh pain shooting through his side. His organs jostled against his ribs... ribs that felt like splinters on the brink of snapping again. And then he noticed a chill in his knee, like a patch of moisture. _

_ Was he bleeding? _

_ He steadied himself again, shivering, as he continued journeying without a destination across the uneven terrain that rose and fell without warning. _

_ The ground dipped down suddenly. His boots skidded, scraping against sharp peaks of rock as he descended into a crater. His feet trampled faster, and he spread his arms out to his sides, fighting to maintain his balance. _

_ His heartbeat went wild._

Stop... stop, stop, stop, STOP!

_ He did _not_ want to fall again. _

_ Feet stepping too fast, too close to each other... they finally found their footing on level ground. He gasped with each inhalation, chest feeling as if it might burst for lack of oxygen. He stood in place, lowering his arms, ignored the pain in his toes... more aware of the numbness of his hands._

_ He couldn't feel his fingers, at all. _

_ So he rubbed them together. That didn't help. _

_ He slapped them against his legs. They barely tingled in response. _

_ That didn't help either. _

_ His vision blurred. _

_ Then his breathing hitched. He could feel his body stiffening, muscle by muscle..._

_ Though something in his gut did just the opposite. It slowed, a strange, unfamiliar strength growing in his abdomen, near his spine..._

_ No, deeper... even deeper than that..._

Deep_... in his very _core_: he sensed it. Like a reservoir of power, waiting to be tapped. It was cold, colder than his surroundings... and though he could not see it... he knew it was _blue_. _

_ His stomach turned over._

_ A blue, block of ice lay deep within him. It asked, beckoned him to set it free, to allow it to take over._

Never.

I'd rather freeze.

_ Loki walked. Then his toe slammed into something sharp._

_ He howled, and flung his hands out. _

_ He crashed to the ground, pain shooting up his arms as they landed on knife-like rocks. _

_"Ah!" he rasped, "...Damn it!"  
_

_ At least he knew now that his hands weren't completely frozen._

_ He dragged himself to a seated position. _

_ He lifted his hands so he could see them, but he couldn't make out their shape or color. He could only sense their movement, and they trembled, badly. _

_ He closed his hands, bringing them up together, in front of his lips. He breathed against his fingertips, but the air in his lungs grew steadily growing colder, and the numbness remained._

_ He contemplated lying back down, and not counting on getting back up. Then maybe his broken ribs would heal... or he'd perish like he thought he would when he fell..._

_ Something flashed in his mind. _

_ He remembered something, something stashed in his secret vault, in the magic realm of in-between. A specific object_—_he had almost forgotten it existed._

_ He shut his eyes, as his mind fumbled. He searched his invisible shelves before pausing upon the one where he had last set the object down... oh, maybe centuries ago. _

_ He snatched it up, and with a mental tug, made it flash into existence. It appeared in his palms, a green light shocking his senses, causing him to keep his eyes shut until the green light dimmed down._

_ He opened his eyes. _

_ He held a hand mirror of shining silver. _

_ Its oval rim glowed with green, electric sparks. He absorbed the mirror's every detail, like he'd never seen it before. _

_ He carefully turned it over, beholding the embossed patterns on the back. Flowing, swirling patterns, resembling braided hair, encircled the rim. A raised carving of a day lily marked the center of its shining surface._

_ The handle lay heavy and warm in his hand. He turned the mirror over again, curling his fingers around the handle. He stared into the black face of non-reflective glass._

_ Loki cleared his throat. _

_ He looked off to one side, frowning. "Oh, what were the words to that spell...?" he pondered. _

_ He focused blindly into space before snapping his head back towards the mirror._

_ "Ah, yes." He licked his lips and inhaled. Then he uttered the spell in a bitter purr: "Hello, handsome." _

_ The mirror obeyed. Its surface flashed blindingly, edges flaring with light. Loki squinted. Now he saw his reflection crystal-clear in the oval frame. _

_ Dust and filth marked his pale features. Traces of sweat went down his jagged cheeks, dried water-stains running from the corners of his eyes to his ears. His forehead bore bruises of every color, and a cut that still bled just below his hairline. His short, ink-black hair hung unevenly, fraying at the tips behind his ears. Inflammation lined his emerald eyes, and a red crack ran down the center of his lower lip._

Handsome, indeed.

_ Loki gripped the handle as steadily as possible. Then he pressed his right palm to the surface of the smooth glass._

_ "Take me to Asgard, please," he commanded. _

_ He waited, feeling the absolute silence of the void. _

_ Nothing._

_ "Take, me, to Asgard, please," he bit out._

_ Still, nothing._

_ Loki clamped his jaw."Fine then... _Show_ me Asgard... please."_

_ The mirror responded then. Loki's reflection transformed into a window to the realm eternal, revealing a sweeping view of Asgard's city, its golden towers shimmering over a thousand rivers, against the backdrop of a warm, nebulous sunset._

_ Loki's chest rose, clutching, and didn't release._

_ He adjusted his knees, sitting bent over the image in the glass. He exhaled with force, and gripped the mirror's handle with both of his hands. _

_ "I wish to see my family," he breathed, "Please."_

_ The mirror altered its image, zooming in on one gleaming citadel, flying into the balcony..._

_ Within, a giant feast took place, everything illuminated in golden torchlight. _

_ Loki watched as dozens of guests, dressed in their finest gowns, visited standing or seated round the long feasting tables of the royal dining hall. They soaked in the fiery glow of each others' company: clinking cups together; plucking bright, green grapes off of silver platters, mouths dripping with juice and wine; eyes glittering with laughter. _

_ Loki salivated. He could almost taste the roasted pheasant on his tongue... the toasted warmth of buttered bread... the salty, sizzling sausage and succulent pomegranates... feel the soothing buzz of ale underneath his sternum. _

_ Amidst the echoing chatter, his ear caught onto a familiar voice... Volstagg's. The heavy warrior leaned in close to the table, in the middle of one of his tales that captivated guests with laughter. He waved about his sausage, stuck with a fork, in large, sweeping gestures, honey and frothing liquor caking his beard._

_ "And then, with a mighty bellow," he recounted proudly, "I flew at the great metal beast and laid it low!"_

_ Cheers resounded, amusement flashing across every face in view..._

_ Then Thor appeared. _

_ He made his way along the outer edge of the golden hall, going around the standing guests. He wore his silver plated armor and floor length cape. He smiled, nodding pleasantly as he passed by groups of guests, brushing past Sif, who sat reservedly two seats away from Volstagg._

_ The mirror followed Thor, as he approached a beautiful woman draped in a flowing, dress beset with twinkling amethysts. She stood underneath the arched entryway, far from the reveling guests. _

_ Loki's eyes froze on her._

Mother...

_ Thor held a brief smile for her, as he gently shook her hand. She held on with both of her hands, and he nodded reassuringly before stepping away. _

_ Loki gripped the mirror. "Stay on Mother, please." _

_ The Queen watched after Thor as he descended a flight of steps leading to an outdoor hall lined with thick, gold columns; an extension of the feasting hall. She muttered something to herself, lips pulling tight. Then she noticed Sif standing by her side._

_ The young maiden's dress gleamed silver, covered in tiny, linking plates like armor. A large piece of metal that imitated a draping scarf covered her collarbone. She wore her hair down, which was rare for her._

_ She stared after Thor, just as the Queen did. Then Sif lowered her gaze and shook her head. _

_ "My Queen, I'm so sorry for your loss," she said._

_ Frigga smiled faintly. She reached out and touched Sif's arm, stroking it with her thumb. Then they both turned out, watching after Thor again._

_ "How is he?" Frigga asked._

_ Sif hesitated. "He mourns for his brother. And... he misses her." Her eyelashes fluttered, as her composure weakened. "A mortal." _

_ Frigga turned, facing Sif. _

_ "He will need his friends now more than ever."_

_ Sif nodded. "I know." _

_ Her mouth twitched, and she peered out again. Her shoulders lifted, and she added, "I will always be at his side."_

_ Frigga put an arm gently around Sif's shoulder. _

_ The banquet hall erupted again into laughter, and Frigga and Sif went in together in silence. _

_ Loki's numb fingertips trembled against the glass. He touched the image of his mother._

_ "Take me to her, please," Loki tried. _

_ His heart pounded. He knocked on the glass with his knuckles. "Please... please take me back... I... I want to go back. Please..." _

_ ...But he was out of reach._

_ His whole body shook. He shut his eyes, and arched his back, shivering. When his eyes fluttered open, they brimmed with hot tears. _

_ The image in the mirror blurred. He blinked repeatedly, and tried keeping his hands steady. _

_ "Show me my Father, please..." _

_ The glass glowed, and revealed Thor approaching the edge of a balcony overlooking the city at sundown. _

_ Father stood just ahead of him, gazing out towards the ocean where it met the stars. _

_ Without turning, Odin spoke. _

_ "You'll be a wise king."_

_ The words felt like hot coals inside Loki's chest. _

_ Thor did not move, nor did he speak, for a long while._

_ Then he muttered, "There will never be a wiser king than you..."_

_ Loki breathed unevenly, eyes locking onto the image inside the glass._

_ "...or a better father."_

_ Loki's knuckles slowly turned white around the mirror's handle until the frame rattled in his hands._

_ Odin lowered his head, his toe tracing a line on the ground. _

_ Thor continued, chin faltering. "I have... much to learn. I know that now." He went silent. He looked out, somewhere past the sea. "Someday, perhaps... I shall make you proud."_

_ A smile reached Odin's lips. He turned around and laid a weathered hand upon Thor's shoulder. Thor met his father's eyes with uncertainty._

_ "You've already made me proud," Odin replied. _

_ A haze obscured Loki's vision. He shook his head... shook his head, and shut his eyes. He remembered... _

No, Loki.

_ He sat, stunned. His trembling arms sank, lowering the mirror into his lap._

No... no, of course not...

_ In a slow, aching motion, he laid his palm over the glass, covering two faces he would never see again. He stopped the golden light from flowing into the darkness, and he felt a final surge of life emanating from the glass, subtle vibrations of the mirror's magic, warming his skin. _

_ "Thank you, mirror," he said. A green light flashed, illuminating past his eyelids. _

_ "Goodbye."_

_ The mirror's surface went black, leaving Loki in absolute darkness once more. _

_ Then the mirror snapped out of existence. _

_ His body shook like a leaf, aching, begging for sleep. And his mind felt too weak to protest..._

_ Something tickled his left ear. _

_ Like wind... it touched his skin, underneath the nape of his neck... _

_ A low, whispering _hisssss.

_ He sluggishly opened his eyes, and saw a light. _

_ Faint, and blue... distant. _

_ Blinking away mist, he tried focusing on whatever it was._

_ The blue oval... an orb hung suspended in the air, by nothing. It shone dimly upon a slab of stone that hovered above it, and another slab above that one, and another, and another..._

_ A spiraling staircase._

_ Climbing up, up, high... he could not see where to, for it was utter darkness up there. _

_ Loki swallowed a lump in his throat._

_ But the light... the light seemed warm. It invited him to come... come closer... and venture up the staircase above it... or perhaps to sleep beneath its mesmerizing glow._

_ He even thought he could hear it speak._

_ It touched his mind, whispering... _

Come.

Come, little one...

_Loki's hands fumbled against the slicing rock at his knees. He struggled, finally standing to his feet._

_ Then he took a step toward the light._

_He may not have to freeze, after all. _

Loki opened his eyes.

The memory faded away like an echo, and he stared straight out in front of him, at the gleaming throne.

He stood gazing at the empty seat. His left thumb flexed, absently stroking the spear in his hand.

He straightened, hearing heavy footsteps approaching from behind.

Turning, he faced the sound.

He saw his brother, striding down the center of the hall, his head held high, higher than before. He carried Mjolnir at his side. He came alone.

Loki shifted his weight, grounding his legs, straightening the spear at his side.

He braced himself, and gritted his teeth.

"All right," he whispered under his breath, "You know what you have to do... So just do it."

Make Thor king. Tell him that he's proven himself, that he is finally ready. Make it seem natural, make sure he understands... with the kingdom in mourning, and with the Odinsleep approaching... there is really no need for a public ceremony. Pronounce him king, right on the spot.

_And then leave._

By the time Odin's body is discovered in the King's bedchambers... Loki will be long gone, realms away. And Thor will never have to know the truth.

_It will be better this way._

"My Father, my King."

Thor landed at the center of the triune engraving carved in the floor. He knelt before Loki, at the base of the throne and dipped his head, continuing, "You may have heard that the warriors and Sif located the Aether, just as Heimdall instructed, and I'm told they will bring it to you shortly. Sadly... we were unsuccessful in finding Loki... Loki's body. We searched... everywhere... but he was buried deep, covered by ash from a mighty storm. It upsets me, that he was not given the ceremonial treating he deserved. But... somehow I found peace in leaving him buried. I concluded that, since it was the earth itself that hid him away, that perhaps fate, as you said... Surely, Mother watched over his soul as he entered Valhalla. I only hope that you are not displeased with my judgment."

Loki replied mildly, taking on Odin's voice, "No, not at all. You acted wisely, not allowing your grief to blind... or harden you. In fact, I am quite humbled in this regard."

Thor dipped his head, half-smiling. "Thank you."

Loki set his jaw. "And... I assume you've already heard of my recent decision?"

Thor's expression sobered. He nodded. "Yes. I have."

Loki straightened his posture. He inhaled deep and then spoke, "You once said... there would never be a wiser king than me. You were wrong. The alignment has brought all the realms together... Every one of them saw you offer your life to save them. What can Asgard offer its new king... in return?"

Thor stared straight at the stairs in front of him. Then he lifted his head.

"My life," he replied. Standing, he confessed, "Father... I cannot be king of Asgard."

Loki blinked, staring at Thor, speechless.

"I will protect Asgard, and all the realms, with my last and every breath, but I cannot do so from that chair."

What was he talking about?

"Loki, for all his grave imbalance, understood rule as I know I never will."

Loki hardly drew in breath through parted lips.

He knew that his brother once experienced a drastic change of character over the course of a three days, but this... This was something Loki never expected to hear.

"The brutality, the sacrifice... It changes you," Thor explained.

Loki tilted his head to one side, trying to read through Thor's expression. Yet nothing in Thor's face communicated any hidden meaning, none that Loki could detect. He spoke, as always, in a tone of absolute straightforwardness. "I'd rather be a good man than a great king."

"Is this my son I hear?" Loki asked, and he ventured a guess, "or the woman he loves?"

"When you speak, do I never hear Mother's voice?" Thor answered, his eyes staring up, bright.

Loki's breath caught.

_ Oh... what she would say about all of this..._

He lowered his gaze to the floor, sighing heavily.

Thor insisted further, "This is not for Jane, Father."

Thor... he did not want the throne.

He did not want to be on Asgard. He wished to be on Midgard, with Jane.

Loki gripped Gungnir with newfound strength. He lifted his chin, and a slight smile tugged on the edge of his lips.

If this was Thor's own choice... Loki would have to adjust his plan.

"She does not know what I came here to say," Thor continued.

Loki listened, steadying himself against an armrest, on the verge of rolling his eyes.

_Fine, you leave me no choice..._

He lowered himself wearily then,his leather skirts squeaking as he fell back with a soft thump into the newly-built, unused throne.

He leaned on his elbow, slumping into a crooked seated position.

"Now forbid me to see her, or say she can rule at my side, it changes nothing," Thor added.

"One son who wanted the throne too much..." Loki glanced away, distant, "...another who will not take it. Is this my legacy?"

"Loki died with honor," Thor stated.

Loki's attention darted back towards Thor, his brow tugging upward.

_Honor, he said...?_

"I shall try to do the same," Thor insisted, "Is that not legacy enough?"

Loki's head swayed... he nodded. Then his eye wandered without meaning to, resting on Mjolnir in Thor's right hand.

Thor followed his father's gaze. He bowed his head, understanding, and flipped the hammer upside down, extending to his father. It hummed in the short, sweeping motion.

Loki stared at it for a moment, transfixed.

Then he drew in a shuddered breath through his nose. He sighed deeply and waved his hand. "It belongs to you... if you are worthy of it."

"I shall try to be," Thor replied, grinding his chin.

Loki's left hand curled into a fist.

This was their goodbye.

He shook his head slowly. "I cannot give you my blessing. Nor can I wish you good fortune."

Thor nodded. "I know."

He bowed, dipping his head, before turning with his shoulders, taking his first step back up the hall.

Loki stopped him.

"If... I were proud of the man my son had become, even that I could not say."

Thor halted. He turned around, facing the throne, facing Loki.

"It would speak... only from my heart," Loki added, smiling with affection. "Go... my son."

Thor returned the same look. "Thank you, Father."

He strode away, back up the corridor lined with pillars that had been fully restored.

Loki watched as Thor's form grew distant, his crimson cape fading from sight, drenched in the white daylight that filled the balcony beyond the grand hall.

Loki maintained his affectionate smile.

Then he released a sigh that he had been holding, he knew not how long.

Focusing his mind, he released his illusion.

Green light shimmered, starting in his left hand. The ripple ran up his arm, through his head, past his shoulders... Odin's fading away...

...To reveal Loki, in his natural form. His soft smile remained, emerald eyes flashing.

The spark touched the spear in his right hand last. He sat fully transformed.

"No," he whispered, narrowing his eyes, "Thank _you._"

He had power now.

The power he would need to defeat his enemies.

An intense rush of energy filled him, flowing through his veins, causing his chest to swell; he felt a hundred pounds lighter. The feeling was exactly the same, the time when he took ahold of that silver steering wheel with his chained hands, guiding that flying ship across the windy lake, salty air blowing freely against his face till his eyes watered.

He could not help the grin that spread tight across his face.

_Caw!_

Above Loki's head, a large raven, black as midnight swooped into the hall. Its wings beat the air, claws extending as it landed on the armrest by Loki's elbow. A second raven followed the first, cawing as it landed on the other armrest.

Hugin and Munin, Odin's age-old spies.

They crooned their heads intelligently, eyes scanning the familiar prince, now their new master, also attracted by the shining, polished spear in his right hand.

Loki angled his head towards the bird on his left, ordering them in a rumbling whisper:

"Follow him."

* * *

_ To be continued... Please leave a review if you enjoyed!_

_ This was like the end of ACT 1 of the story. All the events of "Thor: the Dark World" have been concluded. Now we dive into the unknown, and the middle portion of the story. :D_

_ Notes: The prayer in the second segment was inspired by one in the book/film "The Thirteenth Soldier," which is, in turn, based off of an ancient Nordic prayer! _

_ The lines spoken by Frigga/Sif in the flashback that are not included in the film "Thor" were actually taken from the original "Thor" script! It's online, and I really recommend googling it. It contains all sorts of extra events and lines that serve as excellent head-canon material. Go check it out!_

_ Until next time! _


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